


The Soulless and the Soul Mate

by Selmak



Series: The Soulless and the Soul Mates [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 59,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selmak/pseuds/Selmak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul Bonds are universally accepted as the very epitome of romance. For one’s heart and soul to be so entwined with each other, they are complete only when they are together.  Pity the Soulless, for they will never know completion. They will only know the pain of loneliness and the hollowness of being incomplete.  ~ The Teen Age Guide to Soul Bonds. </p><p>It really sucks to be one of the Soulless. Especially when your lover of twenty years meets his Soul Mate and you have to hear about it from Jasper Sitwell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Soulless and the Soul Mate

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Lachesis Grimm.

_Soul Bonds are universally accepted as the very epitome of romance. For one’s heart and soul to be so entwined with each other, they are complete only when they are together._

_Pity the Soulless, for they will never know completion. They will only know the pain of loneliness and the hollowness of being incomplete.  ~ The Teen Age Guide to Soul Bonds.  
_

* * *

_  
_

Phil Coulson smiled at his long term partner who was industriously folding laundry with a military precision. The two of them weren’t Soul Bonded, as quite frankly, Phil had read the Guide and thought it full of shite. In fact, he had tossed the book soon after his Soul Mate Mark, ‘Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it’ had first appeared on his left arm. Plus his lover was a tested and confirmed Soul Mute, mockingly called the Soulless by those possessing no kindness and utterly lacking in empathy.

And really, what the two of them had together, was pretty damn good, especially since they didn’t need to be so damn careful around each other. Soul Bonds were pretty much a one way to ticket to insanity, Phil Coulson sincerely believed. To be so concerned about your partner that it was the end all, be all of your life. To be utterly suffocated in oneness, while in this relationship, their uniqueness, their individuality was cherished and prized, not treated as an abomination.

No, he was quite content with his relationship as he could drop his socks in the middle of the living room and not worry about the displaced dismarked duo causing mutual psychic trauma.  However, he preferred not to do that, as the tempting sight of defenseless socks would cause one of their ‘children’, two rough and tumble terrier mixes to attack and maul them into shreds. And really, they were rather nice socks as Felix always bought him lovely presents.

And while his lover was Soul Mute, he still wore a rather intrinsic faux Soul Mate Mark that proclaimed to the world at large his suitability. His chest and arm emblazoned with a jagged, cutting script which announced to all that his soul mate would greet him with the words, ‘I know you.’  The faux Mark had been a gift from Phil, as he knew his lover well enough to know how being deemed Soulless, unworthy of having a life partner, had eaten away at his soul. It was bad enough to be one of the Uncompleted, but for others to view his Markless body, it had rankled. Badly. Causing no end of arguments and battles when the other agents had commented on the lack.

Early on in his career, Phil had stumbled across an underground operation where a man, Phil had promptly forgotten, had tattooed the Soul Mute with a faux Soul Mark. His kindness, his gift of art was considered by many to be a High Crime against the Natural Order of Things. Instead of turning in the artist, Phil had exchanged the man’s continuing freedom for a Soul Mark for his lover. Better to be thought a later bloomer, a cradle robber than Soul Mute.

It didn’t change his lover, not all, not down deep. Not the part of him that made him the man that Phil cherished. However, the gift had still affected him, as he was no longer mocked by the other agents. They had thought it was just good natured teasing, but their taunts had scarred and wounded him.  Now, he was one of the accepted, no longer a social pariah.

Once or twice, ok, more than that, Phil had pondered the graceful cursive on his arm and to whom it might belong to before locking such unnecessary thoughts into a mental lockbox. These days, he was quite content with his now relatively easy relationship.  His lover was stubborn, as it had taken years… YEARS… of patient pursuit (ok, there had been more than a few episodes of earth quaking, bed slat breaking, no commitment sex) before he had worn his lover down into sharing an apartment, to entwine their lives together.

His lover was terribly fearful that Phil’s Soulmate would show up one day, complete with trumpet fanfare and tear his life asunder.

Not likely happening, not at Phil’s advanced age.  Especially with someone familiar with Confucius. Most importantly, Phil wasn’t in the market for a Soul Mate, because he was happy and content with his irascible, idiosyncratic companion. Really, it was probably quite utterly boring to have a Soul Mate.

* * *

The day that his life went ass over tit started much like any other. It began with an early morning phone call, his drowsy lover handing him his phone after confirming that it was Phil’s phone, not his, and a quick escape to the hall to listen to his latest adventure.

He returned back and his space in the bed had already been replaced by the puppies.  They knew the drill as well as their parents. Dad (or Mum) was leaving home so the other parent would spoil them. They were opportunistic little scavengers and Phil adored them.

“Have to go to New Mexico,” he explained.

A sleepy head nod was his response as his partner was close to sleeping again. Phil was loathe to disturb him, as he was a light sleeper at the best of times, so he didn’t gift him with a goodbye kiss. He believed that there would be countless other goodbye kisses, as there had been before, and would continue on indefinitely.

He was wrong.

* * *

 

Phil Coulson arrived in New Mexico as the Senior Agent in Charge to discover an absolute mess. An absolute stinking mess as whatever it had been, had been decomposing for some time in the dry New Mexico heat before S.H.I.E.L.D. had become aware. The god-awful smell emanating from whatever it had been, was rather putrid.  However the various scientists were in their glory and he could not even try to hide his instinctive reaction of needing to hurl.  Fortunately his partner had bequeathed him the secret of dabbing Vicks VapoRub by his nostrils. Couldn’t smell a darn thing besides that so he was able to keep his dignity intact. Really, nothing destroyed a Senior Agent’s reputation faster than puking on one’s shoes.

Really, he’d have to remember how to adequately describe the smell when he returned home. Reeking, didn’t adequately describe it. The stench permeated everything even after it was quickly housed into a refrigerated lab.  It even got into the food, making it almost inedible.  The puppies would have been in their element, as they would rolled around in the muck and then clambered into bed with their parents.

One of the scientists saw his disgusted look in the chow line, as what they were serving looked a great deal like the alien’s entrails. So much so, that he had planned on talking to the head chef later that evening to confirm that it was actually Chicken ala King. His revulsion disturbed her sensibilities as she snipped, in a very posh British accent, “Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it.”

His response was instinctive, as though something had taken hold of his soul, as he responded, “The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.”

Her expressive eyes widened, and he realized who exactly she was. 

The Call.

The Answer.

She was the other part of his soul, who very much wasn’t the man he had been involved with for the last twenty years.  The man he **_loved_**.

“Von Gothe,” the scientist murmured in what he knew to be nervous approval. “Not very many people know about him.”

“About as many that can quote Confucious,” admitted Phil.  “Would you mind sitting with me? Don’t you get tired of walking alone?”

“I’m not sure about sitting with you, though I think I would like to walk with you,” she admitted. There was a wariness in her eyes, and it was overwhelming, as he longed to reassure her, to protect her.  However, there wasn’t a noticeable taint of ‘Oh My God, he’s so old’ for which he thanked the heavens.

“Can I show you my Soul Mark?” he requested. Really, that was terribly gauche, as Soul Marks weren’t normally displayed in public.  They were sacred and revered, except in the men’s locker room where they were fair game.

“I believe I know what it says,” she slowly admitted. “I feel… drawn to you.”

“Let’s sit and talk,” Phil requested. “I don’t even know your name, and this is entirely too fast for me.”

They sat in the cafeteria and talked until they were chased out by the cleaners. Phil found himself confiding in her about his life, his hopes and his fears and she rewarded him with a warm laugh before she confessed all to him. He found himself holding her hand by just his fingers, and he flinched at the intoxicating feeling of ‘rightness’, of ‘completeness’.

“Is there a problem?” she asked. Her voice was hoarse from all their talking, “Tell me, I know something is bothering you. I can feel that you’re uneasy.”

“This is going entirely too fast for me, and I’m involved with someone. Have been together for years. This feels like cheating, because it is,” he explained.

She withdrew from him, physically, not **_emotionally_**. “We can be platonic soul mates. It happens.”

“It does,” he agreed. Not often, but he knew of a few. Clint and Nat, for example.  However their relationship was so far beyond complex, he needed a Gann Chart to follow it.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt her, as it would hurt you,” Jemma murmured. “Do you have children?”

“Two puppies,” he explained, as he wasn’t sure how to explain the fact that Felix was quite utterly male.

“I like dogs,” she admitted, with the sweetest smile.

* * *

 

Jasper Sitwell returned to the cafeteria for a quick cup of the liquid swill that impersonated coffee.  He was required to finish a few reports for tomorrow on the Great Glob of Alien Guts and tonight promised to be an all-nighter. Therefore rocket fuel in his veins was required.  He stopped dead when he realized that Phil Coulson and Jemma Simmons were still talking to each other. They looked utterly infatuated, like the very prototypes of Soul Mates meeting for the first time and he stepped away to give them privacy.

Felix Blake had been his S.O. when he was a junior agent, and he owed Felix **_big_**.  He owed him his life numerous times and then some, plus a few other body parts. However, Jasper Sitwell knew that he had to inform Felix about Phil’s bond activating, because … he didn’t deserve to hear about it from Phil. Not while he was in the very intoxicating flush of the Bond Awakening, no, not at all.  It would be need to be handled delicately, by someone who cared for Felix, as a friend, and who’d try to cushion the blow.

Because the two men had been together for over fifteen years.  If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that they were bonded, but not now. Not after seeing Phil starry-eyed and enthralled with his Soul Mate. There was no way this wouldn’t hurt, so really… if he had been in Blake’s shoes, he’d want to know so he could lick his wounds before his lover came home. His ex-lover.

 He returned back to his quarters, and he nervously dialed the phone. Felix Blake quickly picked up the phone and the older man didn’t hide his concern that Jasper was calling him. “Hey, Sitwell. Why are you calling? Has something happened to Phil? He didn’t answer his phone earlier. I thought he was busy, but with you calling… Is he ok? Is he hurt?”

“Felix… I’ve got some bad news,” Jasper regretfully began. “It’s about Phil. He’s not hurt, but…”

* * *

 

“We’ll talk some more tomorrow,” Phil informed Jemma.  She blushed and giggled, the warmness of her amusement boosting his tired soul, so he asked, “What? What did I say that was so funny?”

“It’s two in the morning, Agent Coulson. Tomorrow is today,” she giggled.

“It’s that late?” Phil questioned, as he looked at his Captain America watch that had been a gift from Felix. “I was supposed to call…”

“I’m sorry. It’s just once I started talking to you, it was like I had twenty five years of conversations that needed to be immediately voiced,” Jemma Simmons confessed.  “What will you tell her?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Should I meet her?” Jemma asked. “I’ll promise her that this will be platonic.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.  “I really don’t know.”

“I know you’re worried,” Jemma informed him. “I can feel how worried you are, but … I promise you… I won’t interfere in your relationship. You’re really quite nervous about her reaction, I can sense it. I won’t cause any problems with you two and your fur children.”

Somehow he doubted it would be that easy. Not with Felix, and how society had ingrained his Soul Mute unworthiness into his very soul.  The forthcoming discussion would be traumatic for both of them, and he hoped that they’d still be together after he informed Felix of tonight’s events. When he returned to his quarters, he discovered that Felix had called earlier that evening, had left a message and then had texted him only a few minutes earlier.  He hadn’t felt his phone vibrate which was not a good sign.

“Hey, it’s Felix. Kids wanted to say goodnight before their bedtime,” Felix advised on his voice mail.  “I’ll be up until eleven, so call me if you can. Miss you.”

The text message was terse, but Felix was notorious about how much he loathed texting. Blamed it for the Imminent Downfall of the Human Race.

**_P -  Radio silence. Not sure how long.  F_ **

It wasn’t unusual that Felix would get pulled out of town into an assignment, as after all it was part of their job. Phil wasn’t worried at first, until he realized that a week or more had passed without a word from his lover.  Not even a picture of their kids had been texted to him, which was rather unusual.

Philip noticed that Jasper Sitwell and a few other senior agents were giving him the stink eye, so he took to being chaperoned when he was with Simmons, because… really he just wanted to talk to her, to get to know her. Nothing more.  Certainly wasn’t planning on seducing her, because they had just met, but still, he found himself squeezing her hand and then one night, he found himself kissing her, as ardently as she was kissing him.

It felt so right, that his soul was clinging to hers… and… and… how could he have ever thought of being Soul Bonded as a prison sentence? No, it was the coming together to create something stronger…something greater. He pulled back then, as he thought of Felix’s reaction to this ultimate betrayal. His unease was easily noticed by Jemma who physically retreated. They were so in tune, and yet they weren’t because he hadn’t confided in her about FELIX.

“I think you need to go back to New York,” she stated. “Or I need to go back to New York. Distance is required.”

“This isn’t your fault, it’s mine,” he begged her to believe.

It was most assuredly his fault, he realized anew when he returned home to find that Felix Blake had vacated their apartment, taking all his clothes, the dogs and their various necessities, leaving only his share of the rent for the next six months and a scrawled note.

**_I hope you and your bond mate have a wonderful life full of bonded bliss. I’m keeping the dogs as I deserve to be loved unconditionally and unreservedly, which you have proven that you cannot.  I understand completely, it’s your nature._ **

**_Felix Blake, the Soulless._ **


	2. Ripples from a Single Dropped Stone

 

Phil Coulson sat in the remnants of his former life. The dark thoughts percolated in his mind, how this was his apartment, now, not theirs, not his and Felix’s home… now it was only his. It was entirely too quiet, as there were no wagging tails and wet noses to greet his arrival home. No music playing on the surround sound stereo. Fortunately, having far too much fresh experience in dealing with catastrophes (though never his), his training and instinct took over as he took inventory of the situation.

Blake really couldn’t have packed up everything. Not what Blake had caustically declared to be twenty years’ worth of accumulated crap, Phil decided. No doubt, Blake had taken enough stuff (and the dogs! How could Blake abscond with the **_dogs_**?) to rattle Phil, to let Phil know how badly Felix had been hurt, but Phil would discuss the matter with him, assure him that nothing improper had occurred (except for that one brief sweet kiss) and… everything would be fine again.

 _Please_?

Fucking twenty years, Blake. Didn’t that mean a damn thing?

Though really, it should be, PHIL, FUCKING TWENTY YEARS….

He checked the CDs and DVDs first.

No Dave Brubeck, no Ella… no Louie… no Metallica… no Zeppelin. Where was Amy Winehouse? Seriously, what would he do without hearing ‘Take Five, the fifteen minute jam version, after a really bad day? Felix’s personal decompression piece. When he played it, even the dogs knew he had a bad day and they’d fight to cuddle in his lap.

The apartment was too clean. The single ash tray that he had permitted Blake was gone, as was his stash of cancer sticks. The hall closet, always a bit too crowded, was suspiciously roomy. His heavy black leather jacket, battered and weathered through countless misadventures, was gone for parts unknown also.

He hadn’t realized that he had grabbed his cell phone to call Blake until he heard the empty female voice stating, “We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.” He punched… punched… his phone’s screen to connect to Blake’s private burner cell, the number that was just for the two of them to call when they wanted some privacy and he received the following message, “The number you have reached has been changed to a non-published number.”

He called Blake’s office, hoped that he was working late and that he’d answer. He exhaled in relief when he heard Blake’s abrupt, “Hello.”

“Felix?”

“Not here. Leave a message,” was Blake’s terse response as Phil had gotten his voice mail. “Unless it’s a crisis with aliens, then don’t be a stupid fuck. Call somebody instead of leaving a message for a fucking desk jockey.”

“Felix, it’s Phil. Call me? Please,” Phil requested. “I swear, I don’t what you have supposedly heard so please, let’s talk.”

Where was Blake’s rabbit hole? Where would he keep money and unused credit cards so he could travel incognito?

 ** _Bookshelf_** , which was looking rather forlorn and threadbare, compared to its normal status of filled to capacity plus 10%. Phil turned, noticed that there was a large manila envelope on the king sized bed and his name was scrawled on it. Carefully, he opened it, and pulled out a stack of papers.

Legal documents.

Revocation of his position as Felix’s Power of Attorney and healthcare proxy, documents detailing the closures of their two joint accounts, one for household expenses, one for vacations. The money in them had been scrupulously divided in half, with Felix throwing in a whole thirty seven cents to make the check for Phil’s half rounded to a whole dollar.

All the various documents witnessed by Jasper Sitwell, Victoria Hand and Isabelle Hartley. The legendary team code named ‘The Fearsome Four’ had just reactivated, to circle and surround their former team member in his time of need.

Fucccckity fuck fuck fuck. Victoria Hand had threatened to have Isabelle Hartley castrate him with a dull butter knife if he ever hurt Felix…

And three pictures.

One where he was smiling at Simmons, looking like an absolute loon and… fuck… fuckity fuck fuck… someone had taken a picture of him kissing Simmons. Just on the cheek, thank God, but bad enough.

The third and should he say fourth picture, was a picture of the two of them with the dogs. Sonya, a rather goofy rescued Staffie Terrier and Nikko, a Japanese Terrier were both sitting with Felix … and Phil had been carefully cut out of the picture, leaving him bereft of both lover and dogs.

“At least he didn’t decapitate me,” Phil dryly murmured. He convinced himself not to laugh, because if he did, he’d start to cry. Twenty years … ruined by his Soul Bond activating.

Jasper Sitwell had answered the phone before Phil realized that he had called him.

“Where’s Felix?” Phil demanded, refusing to spent time on social niceties.

“He’s where he needs to be, with his friends,” Jasper stated before the phone disconnected.

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons was still getting comfortable with her Soul Bond. If she ‘stretched’ her mind just so, she could feel Phil’s quiet presence in the back of her head. It was a warm, compassionate manifestation that was tinged with worry and increasing unease. She was talking to Fitz about Phil, naturally, when what she called ‘Phil’ began alarming and then crescendoed into a maelstrom of overwhelming panic, guilt and grief. Then a soul shredding sense of loss and blame.

“What’s the matter?” Fitz asked. His voice was full of concern. “You don’t look well.”

“I am still getting comfortable with this soul bond. Sometimes I can sense him even when he’s not in the room. He’s pretty upset about something and…” She slowed and stopped talking.

“Maybe you should call him?” offered Fitz. “Support him like a good bond mate.”

“No, I fear that I know what the issue is. He’s older and… he is in a relationship,” explained Jemma. She felt small and ashamed that her bond, her much hoped-for bond, was the cause of such emotional trauma. Not only to her Soul Mate, but to the unknown woman who Phil loved.

“But the Soul Bond,” Fitz protested.

Fitz was such a romantic, raised on stories and songs about Soul Mates and how it was the end all be all of one’s existence. Much like she had been. 

“I’m finding out that someone did a really good P.R. job on Soul Bonds,” Jemma admitted. “They completely glossed over the fact what happens when you meet and he’s involved with someone else.”

“You should reach out to him,” suggested Fitz.

“Not now,” Jemma tearfully whispered. “The fallout is…. **_Nuclear_**.”

* * *

 

“Housewarming gift,” Izzie remarked when she entered Felix’s new apartment. “I thought a dartboard would be a wonderful idea. Vic brought a few full length photos of Phil so you can aim.”

“Aim toward the middle,” Vic stated even while Felix buzzed Izzie on her cheek.

“I brought the liquor and the pizza,” offered Jasper, as he brought up the rear.

There was a great amount of cheering from the fast friends, and Felix smiled for the first time since he had taken a phone call from Jasper Sitwell.

“Phil called me,” Jasper admitted as he put the pizza on Felix’s new kitchen countertop. “I didn’t give him any info, brother.”

They bumped fists in solidarity and Felix’ smile faded.

“You ok?” Jasper softly asked.

“I thought I had accepted that this would happen,” Felix admitted. “I mean, you and I had discussed it when you called to give me a heads up, which I greatly appreciated. I thought I’d let Phil process everything first, so I claimed I was radio silent for a case. I figured, we’d talk, hash out if we could still be friends. It’s just the color glossies from John Garrett. He’s a fucking bastard and loving this shit as he kept sending me them. A concerned friend, my fucking asshole. Phil fucking kissed her and… John says that they did far more. Kaminski and Ward agreed. I don’t know why John is twisting the knife in my back, but he is. It’s so bad that I can’t even concentrate at work, so Vic ordered me to take PTO and get my life in order.”

“Well, my understanding is that Soul Bonding is all encompassing especially in the first few hours, so common sense might go out the window. Though I’m not one to know,” admitted Jasper. His snippy, ‘I prefer to be called a hacktavist’ script was still unfulfilled. “Maybe it’s a good thing, because being with Phil… One day, you’ll turn a corner, and someone you’ve never met will tell you, ‘I know you’ and you’ll **_know_** , ‘Fuck Phil. This is the **_real_** thing’.”

Felix remembered Jasper as a rook. With a full head of hair and… Jasper didn’t know that Felix Blake was Soulless. That there was no living soul to match his in all of creation, though the pups, Sonya and Nekko came close. And if one day, his Soul Mark materialized, he’d be a goddamn pedophile as he’d be close to seventy when the unlucky soul got their driver’s license.

So he nodded his head, dutifully, and smiled.

“Got all her details?” Felix asked. “Just have this masochist urge to pour salt in my gaping wounds.”

Jasper handed him a small thumb drive and Felix nodded his appreciation.

“I brought the liquor, let’s have a party,” was Jasper’s wise suggestion.

“Let’s,” Felix agreed. “I’ll look at that tomorrow.”

Jasper then opened the freezer to discover… two trays of ice cubes. One of which had been put back in the fridge half-empty (as Felix was feeling like being a half-empty type guy after recent events).

“Come on, Felix. We’re gonna need ice,” Jasper protested. “Bachelor pads need a fridge with an ice maker.”

“Let me go to bodega and pick up a few bags,” Felix decided. He took one look at Jasper’s face and he shook his head. “I’ll come back. I have to leave so Vic and Izzie can check out my apartment. You know that.”

“They mean well,” was Jasper’s lighting fast retort.

Felix snorted, and decided he’d take Sonya for a walk to the local bodega. Izzie worried that Felix was in danger of doing something stupid, and that she’d be require to prevent it. Therefore, she tagged along. Not so, as who would take care of Nikko? The simply adorable Japanese Terrier that had adopted him during a far too long stay in Tokyo?

“How are you doing?” she asked. She gave him a hard punch to his left arm, so he mock grimaced and rubbed the affected area.

“Mia cara bella,” Felix teased which was their special shorthand for ‘leave me the fuck alone’.

“Felix,” Izzie sighed. “I’m so sorry. I am. You and Phil were so close.”

“It was always a temporary fling,” Felix informed her.

* * *

 

Phil’s psyche was a small ball of utter mental misery lurking in the back of her head. She tried to tune him out, but their bond was too nascent for her to block it completely. Instead his overwhelming misery was honestly giving her a headache.

“I need Panadol,” she informed Fitz. “I’ll head down to the corner store and get some. Need anything?”

Fitz made up a list, and then she was on her way. When she arrived at the store there was a tall, thin man with graying hair who was smoking a cigarette. There was a large brindle pit bull type dog that was sitting next to his feet and the dog looked up at her when she arrived. The dog wagged her docked tail and Jemma stepped back.

“Don’t be afraid. Staffies have a bad rep due to assholes, but she’d lick you to death.” The man stated. She didn’t know him, but there was a sense of familiarity about him, as though she **_should_** know him.

“I know you?” she asked. It was an odd question, but really, it felt like she should know him.

“Doubtful,” he admitted. He looked and sounded as emotionally exhausted as she was. “You sound rather posh. Don’t think I’m in your class. These days, I don’t believe that I’m in anyone’s league, actually.”

A woman came out of the store, carrying several bags of ice, and the man took them from her.

* * *

 

As Felix walked away from the store, he mentally chanted, “Fuck Phil.”


	3. I Know that I'm not the Only One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and me, we made a vow  
> For better or for worse  
> I can't believe you let me down  
> But the proof's in the way it hurts  
> Sam Smith’s “I Know that I’m not the Only One.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lachesis Grimme - let the battle of angst begin!

_You and me, we made a vow_  
 _For better or for worse_  
 _I can't believe you let me down_  
 _But the proof's in the way it hurts_

_Sam Smith’s “I Know that I’m not the Only One._ ”

* * *

Phil Coulson hesitantly called Jemma. That entire Soul Mate Marking thing had destroyed his life, and no doubt his wallowing in pity was adversely affecting Jemma. He needed to do some reading, to find out how to keep his moods from adversely affecting Jemma, as he was all over the place right now. 

“Hello,” was all he said when she answered the phone. Great opening line, Phillip. He needed to make an effort, so he added a chipper, “How are you?”

“Things aren’t going well with your partner, are they?” Jemma asked. Her voice was full of a warm sympathy that he didn’t deserve. “Should you really be calling me? Won’t it cause more problems?”

Well, it would have, if Felix was still living with him. Now, not really. 

“My partner left. Has a new cell number which I was not given. Very carefully split everything; quite fairly,” Phil admitted. “Can’t complain. Really. Yes, I'm trying to convince myself of that.”

“Your puppies?”  She knew how much he loved the various dogs that Felix had brought into their lives for the last twenty years. All of them rescues, some older, some younger, but all of them in need of a family.

 “I’m hoping for visitation rights,” shakily admitted Phil. “I told you that my partner is a dog rescuer, always finding dogs during our time together. My partner rescued the two of them, so it’s only fair…”

“What happened?” She asked, trying to make him get to the point.

“Someone decided to send a picture of us. Two of them. One we were talking, and I looked like a besotted idiot and the other one was when I kissed you on the cheek.”  He admitted that painful truth slowly.

 “I’m so sorry, Phil. For both of you.”

The worse part of it was that she was genuinely remorseful.           

“I’ll go to the office tomorrow and see if…” Phil exhaled. If he was lucky, Felix would cold-cock him one. If he wasn't, Felix would be silent and withdrawn. 

“I am more than willing to talk to her,” Jemma offered. “See if there’s anything I can do to settle things down.”

Time to complete his confession.

“Jemma, she’s actually a he,” Phil blurted. “He’s very angry right now.”

There was a long moment of stunned silence, and then Jemma spoke. Her tone was brighter, happier as though there was a solution to this insanity.

“You’re **_gay_**?  I was wondering as you kept calling him your **_partner_**. I’m ok with you being gay, seriously, I am perfectly fine with your sexual preference.  Then what’s the problem? We’re platonic then. Easy!”  Jemma offered.  “You can be my gay BFF. You two can continue your relationship and it’ll be just fine.”  

God, **_really_**. It was painful how Jemma was grasping at straws.  He could easily imagine Felix Blake’s look of utter disgust directed at Phil.  She’s just a fucking kid, Coulson, his imaginary Blake growled. It was almost comical how his mental Blake immediately decided Jemma needed protection from Phil.

Then again, Blake was by far the smarter of the two of them as he had been leery of a real relationship with Phil.  Phil had the foolishly optimistic one, ignoring the Soul Mark on his arm to woo and charm the skittish Blake.

“I’m actually… rather flexible… in terms of my orientation,” Phil admitted. “As is he. We were field partners for a while and it progressed.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” she asked. “Give me his name? I mean you have been together for twenty years, there must be a great deal of history. Tell me about the good times, Phil.”

God, she was trying to be supportive! How much guilt could one man handle?

“How about you talk about you? Tell me about Jemma Elizabeth Simmons. The apartment is too quiet and I’m tired of hearing my own voice,” requested Phil. “What’s your favorite element?”

“Oxygen,” Jemma eagerly confessed. At Phil’s bark of a laugh, she haughtily protested, “It’s rather hard to breathe without it.”

“You’re utterly correct.”

* * *

 

Jemma ran late the next morning. She had talked with Phil the previous night until late, until she had realized that Phil had fallen asleep listening to her. He had warned her that he was getting drowsy, but urged her to continue talking because he couldn’t handle the silence of his apartment. She woke the next morning, her head resting on her iPhone, and she had realized that she was quite late. Naturally, her day went south afterwards, as she when was running to her office, she met Agent John Garrett in the hallway. He stood in front of her and blocked her way. Garrett was Phil’s longtime friend, but there was something that she didn’t trust about him. His joviality was a bit too loud, a bit too forced.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but she realized that she had an almost instinctive dislike of Garrett. 

“Doctor Simmons!” He heartily announced. “Come on, come on. I need to introduce Phil Coulson’s Soul Mate to someone.”

Jemma then realized that there was a suit-clad agent who was standing next to John Garrett.  It was the gentleman from the previous last night. He had the Staffie terrier and had been at the bodega. His face was expressionless, but Jemma could sense that the other man also distrusted John Garrett. Also, there was a great deal of hatred directed toward Garrett.  

He was a senior agent. That’s must be how she knew him, she realized. She must have seen the senior agent around the building at one time or another. Her theory made sense, but it wasn’t enough. There was something else about him that triggered an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

“Jemma Simmons,” she introduced herself as she held out her hand.  To her surprise, he didn’t take her hand, and in fact, didn’t even acknowledge her courtesy.

“I know,” the man stated. “I understand also that you are newly bonded with a senior level agent. However, that does not give you leeway to arrive late for work. I believe you have a meeting scheduled today at nine and you’re late.  Dr. Simmons, I suggest that you report to the Gabriel Jones Conference Room immediately for your debriefing.”

Meeting? She had checked her tablet on the way to work, and there hadn’t been a meeting scheduled. However, the senior agent was looking rather dyspeptic and she didn’t wish to further aggravate him by contradicting him.

“Debriefing,” Garrett cackled. “Is Phil doing the honors? He certainly moves fast, doesn’t he?”

The other man blinked once, twice, three times at the smirking John Garrett. John Garrett’s smirk began to fade when the other man quietly spoke. “Agent Garrett, you are close to violating several Human Resource Regulations involving sexual harassment.  In fact, I believe that last comment can and should be a violation of Regulation 19.2.b. Dr. Simmons may wish to report the incident to her supervisor. Also Agent Coulson, who I believe, will not tolerate that comment, Agent Garrett. Dr. Simmons, are you still here? I believe I informed you about your tardiness and your need to report to Gabe Jones post haste. Should I escort you? Do you believe that your bond with a senior agent permits special treatment? I can and will dissuade you of that foolish notion.”

The other agent had verbally chopped and diced her without breaking into a sweat, she realized.

“No, Sir. I will find my way there, immediately,” she blurted as she literally ran to the Gabe Jones conference room even as John Garrett was loudly proclaiming that he hadn’t meant any harm and that the other man needed to lighten up.

It was empty.

There wasn’t anything listed on the conference room’s calendar either.

She took out her tablet, and opened her calendar.

Ding! An appointment appeared on her calendar for a meeting in Gabe Jones in ten minutes.  However, there was no organizer attached to the meeting, no agenda, no list of attendees.  All in all, it appeared to be a glitch, however, she couldn’t cancel the appointment, couldn’t reject it, reschedule or otherwise modify it.

When the door opened, she wasn’t sure who or what she was anticipating. However, she wasn’t anticipating the grey-haired agent to walk through the door.

“Garrett’s an asshole. He thinks he’s cute but he’s not. Do not trust him, Grant Ward or Kaminiski. They’re his usual cohorts in rampant stupidity. Regarding his comments, he was being… **_amusing_**.” The agent pursed his lips in disgust and then continued his terse commentary.  “My suggestion is that you should document it with HR, and the next time, file charges. However, I do not believe that there will be a next time especially if Agent Coulson is made aware of the situation. Agent Coulson will not tolerate it.”

“Who are you?” Jemma asked. “Why should I listen to you?”

“I’m a Level 8 agent, Dr. Simmons. That’s enough of a reason. Good day,” he stated. He tilted his head in acknowledgement and then turned to leave.

“May I have your name at least?” Jemma asked as he departed. "When I talk to Phil, I'll have to mention your involvement." 

He turned and twisted his face into an odd look. “No, Dr. Simmons. You may not. I highly doubt that you and I will ever interact after this.”

* * *

Felix Blake left the building for a cup of coffee.  He held quiet and rather disturbing suspicions about John Garrett for some time, and he had begun to keep a surveillance on him and his cronies. Obviously, something had triggered John’s suspicions, as lately his amusing little quips had begun to take a darker turn, as though he was determined to unbalance Felix.  The pictures of Phil… and Simmons.

Who was just a kid.

He needed to pull back, be more circumspect, figure out how he went wrong and had tipped off Garrett. Or who had ratted him out to Garrett.

Perhaps, he’d ask Jasper to keep an eye on Garrett. Jasper was a legendary patsy among the senior agents, at his chameleon-like ability to fool everyone. Well almost everyone, as Felix knew him far too well.

John Garrett had been a little too enthusiastic about introducing Simmons to him.  Made a few sexually charged comments, with the intent of disturbing Felix, not Simmons. He had lied about the supposed meeting, to give her an escape but John had speared her with the loaded comment of being debriefed.  After he and John had verbally sparred, Felix had set up the faux meeting with Simmons using a glitch in the system that he exploited when necessary and only for the greater good.  For some reason he had felt it proper that he warn her about Garrett.

She was just a kid after all. A very intelligent kid, but still a kid.

He had just ordered his coffee when a very familiar voice added, “I’ll pay for it.”

“No need,” Felix informed Phil Coulson.  He handed over his cash and waited for his coffee at the end of the coffee bar. The barista, used to him and Phil being together, shook her head sadly at the display of tension between the long-standing couple.

Naturally, Phil decided that a cranky Felix needed carbs, so he bought him Felix’s favorite breakfast sandwich.  Whole wheat English muffin with eggs, smeared with avocado and hot sauce. Plus a slice of jalapeno cheddar cheese.

“Bribe so you’ll sit and talk to me,” Phil explained. “Figured if I met you here, you’d be less likely to give me the punch I admit I deeply deserve.”

Wisely, Felix left that comment unremarked upon, which Phil knew meant that Felix agreed that Phil deserved to be sucker punched. And perhaps a kick to the groin. 

“I think I’m worth more than an egg sandwich, so I will give you only ten minutes. However, I talk first,” Felix stated. “Agreed?”

An obviously pained Phil slowly nodded.

“Very well. I wish you luck with your Bond.  If you’re anticipating my congratulations and a hearty handshake, fuck you, Coulson.  If you think that I’ll show up at your bonding ceremony and make a concession speech, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I’m keeping the dogs, and you’re not getting visitations. I split everything fairly and I’ve cancelled the various family plans and the joint accounts we were on. I paid the cancelation fees and the balances, and you’ve been re-activated as the solo account holder. If you feel that I’ve taken something that belongs to you, send me an interoffice memo and we can arrange a time for the exchange.  However, I believe I only took anything that I specifically paid for, anything to which we both contributed, I left. Done,” he finished as he took a bite of his sandwich.

All in all, that spewing of grievances had been very therapeutic.

“After twenty years, Blake?” Phil asked. “You just call it quits? Pack up everything and then leave a note?”

“You fucked her, Phil. Fucked her,” spat Blake. “I got repeated phone calls and emails from various agents at your site, and they regaled with stories about you two.  You fucking owed me **_discretion_** , Coulson. You fucking owed me to not act like a twelve year old boy. It’s always been temporary between us, Phil. You’re Marked, I’m Soulless. I always knew sooner or later, your Soul Bond would arrive. However, I thought you’d give me a little bit of courtesy. After twenty fucking years, I deserved it.”

“Felix, I swear to you, we’ve talked and there was one kiss, one,” Phil admitted. “It didn’t go any further.  She and I can keep it platonic.”

“Doesn’t matter to me how far you went, it’s a betrayal and I’m gone,” Felix stated. He looked at his watch and stated, “Two minutes left.”

He took another bite of the surprisingly tasteless sandwich, and then cocked his head at Phil.  Coulson appeared quite confused and Blake decided to press his advantage.

“You seem rather perplexed, Phil. What did you think? That you’d come home, tell me that you met your soul mate? That you and I would continue in our relationship? That you’d introduce me to her and that we’d be besties? Are you fucking **_stupid_**? Or has the Bond affected you that badly?” Felix asked.

“I had rather foolishly hoped that I wouldn’t lose you,” admitted a defeated Phil.  “If I gave you solo time, do you think you and I could work through this? I’ll go for counseling?”

“Fuck no,” Blake stated.  “I’ve been to counseling and I’m tired of hearing that my issues are just because I’m Soulless. My issues are that you are a fucking asshole, Coulson.”

“I’m not giving up on us, Felix. Twenty years,” Phil reminded his partner.

“Done,” Felix sweetly announced as he stood to leave. He walked out of the coffee shop after throwing out his inedible sandwich. That done, he decided to take a stroll to compose himself before he went to work.

That was his last conscious thought until he came back to the present due to a sharp, agonizing pain in his right hand. He realized then that punching the coffee shop’s brick wall repeatedly had been a very bad idea.

“Damn it, I think I broke my hand,” he cursed.


	4. Separate Ways

Troubled times  
Caught between confusions and pain, pain, pain  
Distant eyes  
Promises we made were in vain  
In vain, vain

Separate Ways - Journey

* * *

 

The maimed Felix Blake was reclining in a hospital bed. He was dutifully elevating his one hand and trying to ignore his visitor. Which was impossible as Isabelle Hartley was a force with which to be reckoned, which was a given, considering her Soul Mate was the fire breathing Victoria Hand.  All eight feet tall of her with her scarlet locks.

“Felix, I regretfully have to inform you that your hand is broken,” Izzie informed him.  “When it is man verses a brick wall, I usually find that the brick wall wins every single time.”

“Could have told you that it’s broken,” Felix admitted from his ER bed.  His right hand was misshapen, he seemed to be missing a knuckle or two, the skin was split and it sluggishly oozed blood.  “However, can we wait for the doctor’s review of the x-rays? That is why I have health insurance.”

“What happened?”  Izzie asked.

“Space aliens. Ugly fuckers with scales and tales and…”  Felix began and then stopped when he witnessed Izzie’s look of pure unadulterated don’t-you-lie-to-me-Blakey. “Ok. Had a chat with you-know-who.  Expressed my unhappiness, we went our separate ways and the next thing I know, I had hit the wall. Repeatedly. You’d be proud to know that the wall was cowering in submission as I had won our fight. I **_won_** , Izzie. You can go ask the wall, and he’ll tell you that I beat him.”

“Felix, you are not doing well with recent events,” was all Izzie said.

“I am doing quite well,” protested Felix. “I met the Love of his Life and protected her from John Garrett. I think that qualifies me for some sort of Noble Prize for being a mensch. Or maybe a prize for being an emotional carpet just for my sheer treadability. Is that even a word? I should research that. Must make a mental note as I can’t write right now.”

Izzie sharply inhaled, before she spoke, “You **_met_** her?”

“Yes,” he said.

“And?” Izzie asked. “How? When?”

“Garrett stopped me in the hallway.  Then she arrived late to work because after all when you’re Soul Bonded to Fury’s Special Snowflake you do not have to worry about punctuality. Garrett made a few loaded comments about her and Coulson. I stopped it by reminding him of a few HR regulations that dealt with sexual harassment.  I then spoke to her in private and warned her about Garrett. Planted the idea that she needed to inform Coulson about it, so Coulson can smack down Garrett. That was it.” And that’s all he wanted to say on the matter. Certainly didn’t want to admit that he had carefully catalogued and categorized the woman he viewed as The Unbeatable Competition.

Naturally, Victoria Hand wanted all the details which was why Isabelle had come to the ER, instead of her. Izzie was the best interrogator known to mankind.

“That was all?” Izzie asked. She didn’t believe him, it was obvious.

“Oh, **_that_**. I introduced myself as the Soulless Wonder Boy that used to warm her new Luv of her Life’s bed for the last twenty years. Being a truly considerable soul, rumors to the contrary, I warned her that he snores due to his deviated septum and I suggested industrial rated ear plugs. ” He instinctively gestured with his right hand, who quite frankly wasn’t having of that movement shit, so he grimaced.

“FELIX,” hissed Izzie.

“No, honestly, she wanted my name. I didn’t give it to her because honestly, we will never be friends. Why pretend? Anyway, you met her already. Last night at the bodega?  When you came out of the store with the ice? There was a woman who was scared of Sonya due to the fact that she is a Staffie? That was her,” Felix explained.  “Apparently out of all the neighborhoods in New York City and its surrounding vicinity, I decided to move into her neighborhood. I signed the lease too, so I can’t move for another year, but I needed a place quick that I could afford that would let me keep Sonya. Sonya is **_family_** and I will not let go of her. **_Ever_**. Not after she was abused by that asshole. I promised her a life time commitment and I don’t break those type of promises. I **_don’t_**.”

Izzie exhaled and shook her head.

“Phil is robbing the cradle,” was her succinct summarization of recent events.

He said nothing, and fortunately the doctor soon popped in to inform him that he’d be splinted for the next six weeks or so. The doctor instructed him to follow up with a hand surgeon and informed him that he was a stupid fuck for brawling with a brick wall. Even though he had won.

Well, Doc was right.

Fortunately Izzie kept her mouth shut until she drove him back to his new apartment. Once he was settled in, Victoria Hand arrived with job offer in hand.

“I’ve just been made director of the Hub. You interested in a temporary reassignment? I need someone I can trust as Izzie is going undercover again. I have an Agent that will take this apartment off your hands and I can get you into a duplex, with a fenced in yard so the fur kids can play, chase squirrels and dig massive craters that you will spend every single weekends filling. Bluntly, I need you, Felix. Because Garrett is just the tip of the infected iceberg, and you can do so much more good at the Hub. Plus, I’m worried about you, Felix. You drank a lot last night, like in the old days, and now your broke your hand by hitting a brick wall. I won’t be here for you, Izzie won’t and Jasper is the roving agent at large these days. You need your friends with you now. Fuck Phil and his new girlfriend, and leave NYC for a much needed change. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”

Blunt and true, he admitted.  

He didn’t have to think long.  He didn’t have to think hard. Just the opportunity to escape from the lifetime full of possible encounters of THEM was enough for him. It was time to retreat, to lick his wounds and maybe… just maybe…find another Soulless shell to befriend and in time, have a mindless physical affair. Because, he couldn’t be the only one out there that didn’t have a partner.

Though this time, he wouldn’t permit himself to get emotionally involved.

Because even though Felix Blake was Soulless, Phil Coulson and Jemma Simmons and their goddamn Bond had emotionally shredded him.

“I’d shake on it,” he snarked as he held up his bad hand. “However, no can do. Good thing I didn’t really unpack yet.”

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons sat in her office, and she massaged her right hand, which ached. Painfully.

“You ok?” Phil asked. He had stopped by to see her, bringing her a cuppa (brewed) and a Danish, after she had requested a chinwag.  “I have a bit of twinge myself in that hand today.”

“It just started and I don’t know what I did,” she admitted.

“Where does it hurt?” he murmured.

“Knuckles,” she admitted.

“There?” he asked as he gently touched her hand at the very spot that pained him. “It’s where mine is bothering me. I must have banged it.”

She smiled up at him and nodded.

“I’m a little nervous how in tune we are,” he murmured. “Doc Coulson says Tylenol and some ice, should be fine. So, you said you needed to talk to me?”

Jemma inhaled and exhaled while she collected her thoughts.

“It’s John Garrett. I don’t wish to start anything with him, but he made a few comments that were problematic. There was another agent there who set him straight, but the agent suggested I speak to you,” Jemma began but she stopped once she saw Phil Coulson turn very serious.

“What did he say? Who did he say it front of? I have reason to believe that the gossip mill has decided to make us their headlines this week.” Phil gently shushed her when she began to protest. “Don’t worry about them.  I will handle it, because it has to be done carefully. Just tell me what Garrett said.”

Phil skillfully questioned her about what was said, the tone of the conversation, and the other agent which he called ‘the Suit’ after she informed him that she didn’t know the agent’s name.  He respected her opinion, THANKFULLY, so he didn’t protest when she said that she had an instinctive distrust of Garrett. When she was talked out, Phil asked her, “Do you know anything about this agent that stepped in? I mean, tall white male, thin built with graying hair describes a great many senior agents.”

“He wouldn’t give me his name, just said that, ‘I highly doubt that you and I will ever interact after this’. I must confess I think he was quite happy about that.”

“Mr. Suit has quite the personality it seems. Is this the first time you’ve dealt with him?” Phil asked.

“It’s weird, I actually met him for the first time last night. I was at the local corner store and he was there,” Jemma explained.  “He had a pit bull with him, called her Steffie?”

“Call her a Staffie. It’s short for an American Staffordshire Terrier.” Phil looked away and shook his head. “It couldn’t be him, but it **_might_**. The dislike for Garrett is him through and through, but why would he involve himself?  Could you tell me if the dog looked like this?”

 He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it, and pulled out a photo. He slid it towards her, keeping his fingers on part of it, as though he was hiding something. The dog possessed a broad head, stocky build, and dark eyes.

Jemma nodded, and admitted, “Yes, I believe that’s the dog.”

“Her name is Sonya and she’s a real lap dog. Loves to cuddle and there’s a little spot behind her right ear that she loves scratched,” Phil fondly smiled and then hesitantly asked, even though he knew the answer, “Did the Suit look like this guy?”

Phil lifted his index finger to reveal the agent Jemma had decided to call Mr. Sunshine. “Yes, that’s him.”

Phil’s smile faltered slightly.  “His name is Felix Blake. He fibbed as he’s actually a Level 7, not an 8, and currently works in Reconnaissance and Surveillance. He rescued Sonya when someone used her as a bait dog in a dog fighting ring. You’d never think she was abused as a pup because she’s just adores everyone she’s ever met. The worst with her is that you have to fear is that…”

“She’ll lick you to death,” they both stated in unison.      

He removed his fingers from the picture and continued, “That’s Nikko, a Japanese Terrier and there’s me. Felix and I…”

“He’s your partner.”  Her tone was flat, but it explained so much. His comment of ‘I highly doubt that you and I will ever interact after this’. But it didn’t explain why Felix had chastised Garrett by bludgeoning him with the service reqs or why he had warned her about Garrett and told her to go to Coulson.  Why had he decided to involve himself? He could have just walked away?

“According to Felix, we are no longer together and there is no hope of ever changing that,” Phil quietly stated, regretting that she’d feel his intense pain. “I believe I spoke to him after you met him this morning. At our conversation today, he was quite insistent about our relationship had ended since meeting you triggered the Soul Bond. What time did this all happen?”

She pulled out her tablet and confirmed the time using the scheduled meeting as a reference.

Phil tapped his fingers on the counter for a bit and then he spoke, “So, he met you. Left the office, went for coffee and met me then. We had a ten minute discussion as that’s all he would give me. He is beyond furious with me, and… it seems that some of our fellow agents decided to inform him that you and I had been ….  Intimate…”

The noise Simmons made was close to a squeak, Phil realized. She was utterly horrified that she was the subject of gossip and slander and he damned himself for being unable to cushion the blow.

“I told him the truth, that there had been one kiss, because I won’t lie to him,” confessed Phil. “I assured him that you and I had discussed everything and that we believed that we could keep this platonic. He felt… betrayed… and he’s right. After twenty years, I owed him more. I needed to handle this bond between us in such a way that he wouldn’t be turned into an object of ridicule, so I really fucked it up with him, and I really fucked it up with you.”

Really, the damn Soul Bond was supposed to make everything better. Two souls being completed and all that tosh.  Not worse, not wishing that she had never met Phil, Jemma mentally protested. Yet since their first meeting, it felt like the two of them had been overwhelmed by the emotional ramifications of their Bond.  Phil was in turmoil, and she needed to support him. Not because he was her Soul Bond, but because he seemed like a decent fellow.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

“Can you give me a few days?  I know at this part of our bonding, we should be conversing and getting to know each other, but…I… I think I need a few days. I still want to talk to you, but..”  Phil sputtered to a complete stop.

Phil was exhausted, she realized and she felt a great deal of compassion for him.

“I understand,” she said. “I do. You are in a relationship right now that’s having a rough patch. Get that settled, and…”

Really, she wasn’t sure if she could emotionally handle having her Soul Mate being intimately involved with someone else, but she had rapidly realized that Soul Bonds required a great deal of patience and understanding.  And the two of them were in the honeymoon phase!

His smile was one of pure relief. “You are **_amazing_**. I can’t believe how understanding you’re being about this. If I was you, I’d demand a refund because this has been absolutely horrid for you. Thank you for putting up with me.”

“I just want you to call me and let me know how you are doing,” she requested. “Promise me at least one phone call a day.”

* * *

 

Two days later, Jemma Simmons had quite enough. She was trying to be patient, but Phil, while being a senior agent and able to handle world-wide catastrophes with nary an eye blink, seemed to be incapable of handling Mr. Personality and his righteous rage. Well, unfortunately, Phil’s personal crisis was adversely affecting her, as she found herself weepy at the most importune time. Fitz, be a dear and could you please past me that… boo hoo… water works times. Therefore she needed to stabilize Phil and his grief so she could function.

And if another person made a cooing comment about how wonderful it was that she had found her Soul Mate, she might slap them senseless.

**_BECAUSE IT WASN’T WONDERFUL! IT WAS HURTFUL AND PAINFUL AND NOT A GREAT DEAL OF FUN!  PLUS THERE WAS A COMPLETE LACK OF SNOGGING._ **

Therefore she put on her big girl pants, and decided to storm Surveillance and Reconnaissance. She’d confront the bear in his lair and get things squared. And she ignored Fitz asking why she was taking the Nite-Nite gun with her. (And it was STILL a stupid name)

She went to the front desk and gave her victim her best winning smile.  Phil had assured her that she was adorable, and she wasn’t afraid to use her adorability for her Soul Mate’s greater good. “Hello, I have an appointment with Agent Blake. Please advise him that Dr. Simmons is here to speak with him.”

She smiled brightly.

The receptionist appeared confused.

“Agent Blake is no longer stationed here,” the receptionist explained. “He was reassigned two days ago. He checked in on Monday at seven, and he was gone by the time I came in at nine. I have absolutely no idea where he was reassigned.”

**Bugger! BUGGER! BUGGER!**


	5. Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Things are okay with me these days  
Got a good job, got a good office  
Got a new wife, got a new life  
And the family's fine

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant ~ Billy Joel

* * *

 

Phil finally texted her at four that afternoon. After discovering that Blake had absconded for parts unknown (a location that she had been unable to ‘adorable’ out of the notoriously chatty support staff), she had left a message on Phil’s voice mail requesting that he call her.  It was shortly before her scheduled departure for that day that he responded. She appreciated the break, as even though since she was busy sciencing, she didn’t anticipate leaving for another few hours.

**BAD DAY. Last ate at 5am.  Care for DINNER?  P**

**PRIVATE?!?!?!?!**

**YES I’ll bribe the paparazzi to follow Maria Hill. She’s much more interesting but gives them quite the chase.**

**GOOD Need 2 talk  –**

Her phone rang then and she answered it once she realized it was Phil.

“Where is the body I need to hide?” He teased. “Or is it bodies?”

“They’re dissolving actually. I dragged them into the big vat in back,” she confessed.

Her cheek was rewarded with a warm laugh from Phil. She realized then that she hadn’t heard him laugh recently and that she was quite surprised how much she missed it. It gave her good tingles among her Bond when Phil was happy enough to laugh.

“Where are we meeting?” she asked.

After confirming that she didn’t mind walking to their destination, he suggested a place to meet and time.

* * *

 

Phil was waiting for her at their assigned meeting space and he gave her a warm smile when they met.  From their Bond, Jemma could tell that he was physically and emotionally exhausted, but yet still delighted to see her.

“What a day,” he groaned. “I know you called me, but I couldn’t call you back until it was quite late. Do you want to talk about it as we walk to the restaurant?”

Abruptly, Jemma realized that possibly reaching out to one Felix Blake hadn’t been the brightest idea.  Phil noticed her unease and shook his head.

“That bad? How about someplace we get caffeinated so we can sit and chat? I normally go to one place near the office, but…there’s bad karma associated with it now. I know someplace else. Seriously, Jemma, it can’t be that bad.”

“I may have overstepped, but with completely good intentions,” she confessed.

To her surprise, he took her hand and squeezed it.

“Can’t be that bad,” he said. “Certainly didn’t need to throw anyone into the Big Vat of Flurosulfuric Acid. There’s so much paperwork required to safely dump that stuff, Jemma.”

On one hand, she was thrilled that Phil knew about flurosulforic acid, but she shouldn’t let her love of science distract her from the important issues.

“Should you be touching my hand?” she whispered. “Won’t the fact that we’re having public sex get back to Felix?”

Coulson’s smile faltered and he shook his head. “Felix grabbed the first available transfer out of Dodge. Took the dogs, and he’s gone. The gossipers may email him with our supposed lurid escapades but he won’t have to risk seeing us on a daily basis, which is why he left.”

“Do you know where he went?” She asked. “That’s why I wanted to talk. I went to his office this morning  to try and broker a truce and they told me that he was reassigned elsewhere.”

“One of his old team got promoted up the food chain. They go way, way back, so I’m assuming she offered him a position,” he stated. In a rare moment of painful honesty, Phil added, “She never liked me, so I’m sure she’s inwardly gloating that she was right.”

“She has a lousy judge of character,” Jemma protested which earned her a smile from Phil.

“You’re biased,” he protested though her emotional support made him happy.

“Why is he acting like this?” she asked.  “He’s not letting you explain anything.”

“Felix is actually acting the way I would be if I were Felix.  How about instead of taking you out to dinner, I make you dinner? My apartment is nearby. We can eat, chat a bit in private and that’s it. Nothing sexual; nothing requiring horizontal, vertical, perpendicular, sideways, upside down or downward positions. Just dinner and a chat. I’ll order a car from the company so you don’t have to take the public transport home?”

She wasn’t sure, and Phil shook his head.

“This is not an attempt at seduction,” he promised. “Just dinner. I’m coming out of a twenty year relationship, Jemma. I need to screw my head on straight.”

* * *

They went to some little organic shop that she wasn’t even aware of its existence, and Phil chatted easily with the various staff members who knew him. The little old ladies behind the counter asked about his dogs, and Phil fibbed. The shopping done, she and Phil went to his apartment.

“I’m promising you, no sex,” he repeated. “You deserve better than Rebound Sex. I would say that to you even if you weren’t my Soul Mate.”

His smile faded, and he turned to the door. “This is where I would normally warn you about the dogs and how you were about to be loved to death. However, I don’t have to anymore.”

His alarm system was rather complex and when the door finally opened, Jemma walked into a surprisingly spacious one bedroom apartment that was neat and clean. She noticed without commenting that there was a large Captain American poster (vintage) that was framed and various Captain American memorabilia sprinkled throughout the room.  Where those framed Captain America cards over the workstation? Phil gave her a brief tour (with just a hand wave towards the bedroom) and then went to the kitchen.  He removed his suit coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Besides witnessing how Phil had delightful forearms, she also caught a glance of part of his soul mark. “… not everyone sees it.”  It was most assuredly her handwriting and she felt… **_complete_**.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen your Soul Mark,” she murmured. 

“Runs from my shoulder down my arm. Where’s yours?” he asked.  She blushed as her mark started under one breast, snaked to the other and then down around her back.  Phil laughed.

“It’s very difficult for me to wear a low-cut top,” she confessed.

“You have a **_naughty_** Soul Mark?” Phil asked. “Why did my psyche decide to put it there? I can assure that I was a Boy Scout.”

They laughed again, and then Phil shook his head.

“Have you ever wondered about Soul Marks? The why, the when, the where of it all? Or more importantly, why sometimes they don’t show up at all?”  Phil asked as he began to dice pancetta.

“Or why two men were together for twenty years when their Soul Marks weren’t a match,” Jemma questioned. “Was Felix’s Soul Mate dead?  Did they ever meet?”

“I hope you will treat what I am about tell you with absolute confidence.” After her head nod, Phil explained, “Felix isn’t Marked…”

“Are you **_sure_**?” Jemma blurted, as her mind engaged before her tact kicked in. “The odds of a man of his age being Unmarked are astronomical.”

Phil winced and mouthed, “Man of his age? He’s a man of my age, Simmons!” while Jemma quickly apologized.

“After twenty years, I can safely say I know just about every square inch of him,” Phil insisted. “However, he is a tested and confirmed Soul Mute.  He paid so much for that fucking exam and… I thought it was a waste of his money because it didn’t matter to me. But it mattered to him. What with society’s insistence on Soul Mates… and him being unmarked…it really disturbed him because he thought it meant that there was an intrinsic flaw in him. That he wasn’t worthy of a lifetime commitment. He sat for the test because he was worried that he wasn’t a Late Bloomer. Instead, he was told that he was Soul Mute.”

“Is that why he rescues dogs?” Jemma asked. “For the unconditional love?”

“Yes, and no. He’s a dog person, but we never got a puppy, except for Sonya. The rest were all death row pitties except for Nikko – who found him in Japan.    Now, this is where I make a confession that will cause me to be incarcerated. During a case, I found someone that was Marking the Soul Mute. It’s illegal, I should have arrested him. Instead, in exchange for his freedom, I got him to Mark Felix one day with the first words I ever said to him. It’s not a real Soul Mark, but it looks damn good. The guy was an artist because I’ve seen imitation Soul Marks. This one, it looks **_real_**. We went away for two weeks so it could heal in private, and… then later on, someone noticed that Felix had the Mark. So Felix Blake, Soulless became Felix Blake, Late Bloomer.”

He stopped for a moment, and then grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t pick up any liquor. I don’t drink that much but there might be beer in the fridge.”

“So, twenty years,” she repeated so that Phil would return back to the subject.

“Commitment free Sex first, which was a lot of fun,” Phil stopped and then smiled. “You’re blushing. Please tell me…”

Sly grin, crinkled eyes and dimples… he was struggling to be upbeat, she realized.

“I have!” a blushing Jemma admitted. “I’ve had several relationships because I wasn’t just waiting for you to arrive.”

“I’m glad because a man of my age,” Phil began, which earned him a THAWP on his knuckles with his silicon spatula. “Ow! Had to be the knuckles!”

“Sorry,” she apologized. “If it makes you feel better, mine are bothering me also. Especially after that thwack.”

“No, actually it **_doesn’t_**. Anyway, I decided I wanted more than just mattress bouncing. He was leery, obviously, as he had previous relationships that ended rather badly because of Bond Activation. I wore him down and… we had some really good years together. He’s reacting like he is because I had promised him that if my Bond activated, I’d handle it better than the others had.  Well, the gossip mill told him before I could. They distorted it out of all sense of reality and… he’s devastated at what he views as my betrayal after twenty years, combined with his Soul Mute status and with you and I being Soul Mates, he decided to throw in the towel.”

Phil pushed the chopped pancetta into the pan with the blade of his cutting knife.

“It’s the one thing he told me that he’d never be able to forgive. Felix trusted me and I failed. I know he comes across as a really arrogant SOB, but really, he’s quite selfless, the defender of the downtrodden.  I mean, he verbally smacked down Garrett hard when he got fresh even though he knew who you were. By the way, I spoke to Garrett. It will not happen again.”

He took her weapon of choice, the spatula, from her hands and began stirring.

“Enough about me, tell me about you. Who was the first person you kissed? A real kiss?” Phil asked.

“Nigel, his name was Nigel. He was Goth. I was feeling rebellious, but it grew very tiring Emo-ing all day,” Jemma admitted. “Plus it cut into my sciencing.”

“Emoting?” Phil asked.  “Dare I hope for pictures of Jemma Simmons in leather?”

“NO,” she said. “I couldn’t get the eye shadow right. I tried for dramatic, I look like I had been beaten.”

* * *

Their relationship progressed slowly after that, a bit too slowly for Jemma’s taste.  They spent a great deal talking with Phil slowly peeling off his layers.  Sadly, not layers of clothes, as Jemma was really desiring a good, hard shag with her Bond Mate, but instead layers of emotional distance.  In turn, she would unveil more of her soul, until their Bond was literally **_purring_**.

There were good and bad days, however. Jazz would make him melancholy and withdrawn with the next day him being more effusive.  God forbid he met a pit bull during their long walks, as he really missed his dogs. And really, she **_knew_** when his ventures to contact Felix had been ignored because he was first hopeful and then quite unhappy.  The attempts were rather frequent in the beginning and then the time frame between efforts increased more and more until Phil finally ceased his efforts.

And when he apologized for reaching out to Felix, she just shushed him, because he needed closure.

It didn’t make it easier for her, as she found herself falling for him. Hard.  Though the distinct lack of snogging was upsetting, but she realized Phil needed time, but really, how much time was required? How much silence would it take from Felix for Phil to truly accept that it was over?  And could Jemma really accept that their relationship was finished? Especially when she caught him remembering about some experience he and Blake had shared?

Really, it was like there were three people in this relationship.

The two of them were sitting together at Phil’s apartment when Phil reached for her hand. He stroked it and then he held it.

“Thank you for your patience.  I know you’ve wanted more for a while, but I worried about making sure we had a strong emotional framework in place.”

“I understand,” she attempted to say, but Phil shushed her by placing his lips on hers. It was a gentle open mouth kiss but she wasn’t having any of that. She pounced and he pulled back.

“Too aggressive?” she pouted as he stared at her, wild-eyed, dazed and confused.  Oh and most assuredly rumpled!

“For a man of my age… it was rather surprising,” he confessed.

“You’ll need to get used to it,” she informed him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to **_that_** ,” he admitted.

“Shut up and snog me,” was Jemma’s retort.

* * *

Phil insisted on taking the next step slowly. No shagging, NONE, but soon, he promised. However, they snogged every chance they could. He introduced her to his friends, (personally she found the supposed administrator Melinda May very intimidating) and she introduced him to her circle of friends. It seemed that the ghost of Felix Blake had been successfully exorcised from their relationship.

It was too good to last, as she was advised that she needed to take a visit to the Hub.

That afternoon. 

As she told Phil, later that day, there was a great deal of sciencing involved, lots and lots of sciencing, (which wasn’t a verb, she reminded Phil).   She decided not to mention that one of the science experiments had gotten loose and ran amuck throughout the Hub, causing no end of chaos.

“Sounds like you had a rough day,” Phil stated. “Don’t forget to eat. There’s a good place on way to your hotel. I’ll call ahead and order so we can pretend that we’re having dinner together. My treat, since I’ll make you eat something out of your comfort zone.”

“I’ll pay,” Jemma insisted. “It was my time to pay.”

* * *

 

Felix Blake was having one of a hell of day. Something… and he literally meant some THING had escaped from the Science Area which had required a response team so it would get tagged and bagged and…fortunately his dog sitter/walker was a former SHIELD Agent who decided upon retirement that puppies were more fun that terrorists (Amen to that, Sister) so the kids had been fed, walked and would be asleep in his bed by the time he got home.

Might as well have dinner, so he ordered takeout from a little hole in the wall place. It was surprisingly crowded at the take out counter but he recognized most of the people in the line as being part of the Tag n’ Bag Club. However one of the faces was someone who shouldn’t be here.

Well, time to be a man and face Coulson if he was here. Probably was, as it had been that time of day.

The counterman waved at him, so he nodded an acknowledgement.

“I’ll pay for my order and hers,” he rumbled. Just to prove no hard feelings. HA!

“That’s not necessary,” Jemma Simmons protested as she turned to face him. Her eyes hit his chest as she was rather short, and then went upwards. She blanched when she realized who he was, and yes, it emotionally immature to admit that it was oh so satisfying as Jemma Simmons was displaying the classic signs of **_fear_**. “Oh.”

“Hello, Dr. Simmons.  I’m paying for your dinner. Is Coulson here? I’ll pay for his also. Consider it my present for your Bonding Ceremony.  I guess it’s not the traditional gift for a Bonding Ceremony, but I wouldn’t know.” He kept his voice low and modulated, which had worked on countless terrorists, so Jemma Simmons would be no exception.

To his surprise, Jemma Simmons found her backbone and spoke.

“How are you?” She asked, like she cared or something.

“New job, new office. Got a new life. Everything’s fine.” She was too young to catch the lyrical reference, but Coulson would have arched an eyebrow.

“He misses you,” she admitted softly.

Well, he missed Coulson. Missed the conversations, missed the sex (as while he was fifty years old, he wasn’t dead, ok?), and missed the feeling that he had a deep emotional connection with a fellow human being. (Being a freaking Soul Mute and all that, it had been nice to pretend, ok? Pathetic, meet Felix Blake.)

“Phil understands that there simply wasn’t enough room for you and me,” he informed Jemma. He signed the receipt and nodded his head in dismissal.  “Will you be at the location for long?”

**_GOD, please no._ **

“Maybe a few more days,” was her answer.

“Hope not to see you,” he quipped. “Nothing personal, you understand. Try to keep your experiments under control, so they don’t create chaos. I'm assuming that you were somehow involved with today's cluster and a half?.”

“I understand,” she admitted.

“Good night, Dr. Simmons.”

“Good night, Felix. I do wish it could have been different,” she quietly stated.


	6. You Oughta Know

"You Oughta Know"

I want you to know, that I'm happy for you  
I wish nothing but the best for you both

~ Alanis Morissette

* * *

 

It was awkward as the two of them walked out of the restaurant together. Then Felix Blake smirked a smile, or smiled a painful grimace, Jemma wasn’t sure which, and asked, “I’m assuming you’re staying at the typical place. Where’s your car?”

“I walked,” she proudly stated. She was certainly able to walk a mile to work.

Felix tilted his head and looked at her as though she had three heads. “I’ll drive you,” he rumbled.

“That’s not necessary,” she protested. Really, she’d prefer to leave Felix Blake and the rest of her emotional baggage at the restaurant so she could walk back to her hotel. The cool night air would clear her head.

“Yes, it is,” he stated. “You’re about to take a nice leisurely stroll through a drug area.  I don’t recommend you doing that as quite frankly, you’ll get robbed. At best. Follow me.”

He strode toward the parking lot and she didn’t follow him.  He stopped after he had taken six long steps toward a Jeep that had a sticker that proudly announced that his rescued pittie was smarter than your honor student.  Plus one that suggested that those that taught pit bulls to fight should be the ones euthanized. He pivoted on one foot and glared.

“Seriously? Death wish? Are things that bad with Coulson?” Blake asked.

“I just don’t know why you’re …” she began.

“Yes, because Felix Blake is the type of man that would let Phil Coulson’s Soul Mate get shanked,” he dryly stated.  When a quick eye sweep of the Jeep was completed, Felix opened the door and gestured. “Get in. Or walk. Get shanked, I won’t feel guilty. I offered, you were the one that decided not to accept my rather generous offer to be your chauffeur. ”

He made a quick, savage gesture that was obviously a shanking, and Jemma leapt into his Jeep. Really, he was a little too comfortable with that movement.

“Seriously, you bought my dinner and are now giving me a ride to my hotel. What I don’t understand is why?” Jemma asked.

“Because you’re Coulson’s Soul Mate,” he stated.

“You don’t even like me,” she reminded him.

“Because you’re Coulson’s Soul Mate,” he stated.

“You haven’t talked to Phil in months,” she added. ‘’Why are you…”

“Because you’re Coulson’s Soul Mate,” he repeated. “Now did you drive, or did you take the train down?”

“Drove,” she stated.

He arched an eyebrow. His disbelief was obvious and she capitulated. “I took the train as I wanted a chance to see the scenery. I rented a car once I got to the train station.”

Felix Blake rolled his eyes so far back in his head it was a marvel that they didn’t pop out of his head and roll under the driver’s seat.

“I’ll run a query. If there are no cars rented to you or Phil, I will be at the hotel at 7:30 am to give you a ride to work. I hope to God, you’re punctual as I have a meeting at eight. Don’t take a cab, Dr.  Simmons. They find out where you work, they’ll kidnap you as some of the drivers work for the Russians, some work for the North Koreans, a few are from China, and I’m pretty sure the local Israeli taxi driver is a member of the Shimshon. I don’t really want to rescue you from your own stupidity,” he admitted.

“Why?” She asked.

“Seriously, is that all you ask, ‘why, why, why’?” He asked.

“Ok, why do you care? Is that better?” Jemma snapped.

“This isn’t science, Dr. Simmons, where you need to dissect every single action. You should just gratefully accept the fact that Felix Blake, being a man of rare integrity, is willing to deal with the woman that shredded his life to pieces with cheery ‘Wotcha, Coulson?’ in order to protect her from her utter naiveté. Oh, here we are, at the Morrison Hotel. Remember, tomorrow, 7:30 sharp,” he announced as he pulled up to the door.

She sat in his Jeep and refused to move.

“Do I have to open the door for you?” He growled. “Somehow I believe you were a modern independent, assertive woman. Dare I say, I thought you’d be spunky?”

“Do you really hate me that much?” Jemma whispered.  She tried to hide the tears in her eyes, but… Felix Blake sighed.

“Why would I hate you? You’re Phil’s Soul Mate. He’s very romantic, you know, and I’m sure he’s over the moon that the two halves of his soul are now combined. You’ve completed him, Dr. Simmons. Why would you believe that I would be angry?  Phil’s happiness was always my first concern, and you’ve made him happy. That means, I have to keep you alive so Phil stays happy.”

His tone was flat, and she found the door handle.  It was past time to leave.

“Tomorrow, Dr. Simmons,” he stated. “Try to be on time.”

She nodded.

* * *

She skyped Phil after she returned to her hotel room.  He warmly greeted her but he immediately knew that she wasn’t in a good emotional state.

“Jemma? What happened?” he asked.  His voice was soft and affectionate, and her eyes teared at his emotional support.

“Felix Blake is stationed here,” she softly stated. “I met him earlier today.”

Phil leaned towards the monitor as though he could offer her physical support.

 “I thought he was at the Triskelion.  Has he been… difficult?”  His soft voice was almost a caress to her strained nerves. Really, dealing with Blake was… quite unsettling. She could understand Felix being angry, but his brusque protectiveness as he had decided to protect her for PHIL was like a knife in the heart. 

“No, he bought me dinner.” That was admitted with a disbelieving laugh.

“ ** _What_**?” Phil interrupted.

“Then he thoroughly chastised me for planning on walk back to my hotel tonight. He wished to know if I had a death wish, as he promised me that I’d get shanked if I walked home.  He also told me that he will be my chauffeur to work tomorrow as he believes I would be kidnapped by the Mossad tomorrow if I took a taxi. When I asked him why he was getting involved, his response was, quote, just gratefully accept the fact that Felix Blake, being a man of rare integrity, is willing to deal with the woman that merrily shredded his life to pieces, end of quote.”

Phil sighed. “Would you like me to come down?  I have some PTO. I hope you understand that Felix is furious with me, and… you’re there. I can come down and he can direct his anger at me.”

“No, no, no, I’m only here for a few more days. He’s not being nasty about it, he’s just being… brusque. He informed me that the only reason why he cares if I get shanked or kidnapped is because I’m your Soul Mate and that I’ve completed you.  He claimed that he only wants you happy and since I’ve made you happy, that means he makes sure that I stay alive as I am apparently completely naive about personal safety. Maybe if I can survive the Hub and Agent Blake for the next few days, we could go away for a holiday.”

Phil smiled and made a suggestion, “I know this great place. Has this huge bed and … maybe we can take our relationship a little further.”

“How much further?” she asked.

“It’s been six months, and I think you’ve been rather patient,” admitted Phil. “I’ll think of something romantic to make up for this hellish week. I give great back massages.”

“Sounds absolutely lovely,” she admitted. “It’s been rather hard…”

A chuckling Phil dimpled and Jemma pointed her finger at him. “I hope you are. I’ve been wanting that since I met you, and you’ve been insisting on waiting … You’re a man of… rare integrity.”

Her smile faded and Phil shook his head.

“Jemma, I promise you an absolutely incredible weekend. Just stay strong and keep smiling.”

They talked for two hours, Phil keeping the conversation light and affectionate. She felt better when they ended their conversation.

* * *

 

She was ready at 7:25 AM for her ride. Phil had texted her a quick encouraging message earlier that morning, along with a warning that traditionally Felix didn’t speak until his blood was sufficiently caffeinated.  Usually around eleven or so, so she was safe.

He pulled up promptly and she was greeted by a sunglass wearing Blake who handed her a hot cup of brewed tea.  He had two cups of coffee in cup holders and there were two dogs in the back seat. One was the pit she had met previously, the second one was a white terrier with a black face.  The two dogs wagged their tails at her, but remained in their seat.

“Wasn’t sure how you liked it,” he growled. “Lemon, sugar, cream are in the bag. The kids are off at day camp today, so I needed to pick up breakfast. There’s a muffin and a hard roll. Take your pick. Leave what you don’t want.”

That was the extent of their conversation until they reached the Hub.  Felix handed her a card with his office number on it. “When you need a ride home, call me.”

It wasn’t an offer, but a statement, a command. **_You will call me._**

That done, Felix Blake left.

 


	7. You've Got a Friend

Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend? People can be so cold.  
They'll hurt you and desert you. Well, they'll take your soul if you let them.

“You’ve Got a Friend” ~ James Taylor

 

Jemma fled to the quasi safety of her lab, her borrowed lab for the next few days, and she collapsed into a borrowed chair in her borrowed office.  To her utter horror, she then realized that she had acquired both the hard roll and the muffin (complete with assorted little packages of butter and various jams, and yes… plastic butter knives and little packages of both dry and wet napkins) besides her perfectly steeped cuppa. (Which meant that the Cranky Blake had really made an effort and that she had paid him by back by stealing his brekkie besides the entire Stealing Phil Coulson bit.)

“Oh, bugger!” she loudly cursed. She had Felix Blake’s breakfast which meant he’d be cranky and HUNGRY when she next saw him. No doubt he’d drolly remark on her supreme arrogance of coming into his life and taking everything, including his breakfast. It was time for emergent action, yes, a phone call to Phil on how to handle it.

One ring, two rings… when Phil finally answered the phone, Jemma blurted, “I stole his breakfast, what do I do?”

“What?” He repeated.  “Perhaps you could repeat that a little slower?”

“Felix brought me breakfast and told me to take either the roll or the muffin, I took both. I took his breakfast, Phil!” Jemma blurted, thankfully slower this time. “He’ll be furious when he gives me a ride home.”

“WHAT?” Phil interjected.  “First of all, Blake doesn’t do rolls or muffins for breakfast. Usually just coffee, and … he’s giving you a ride after work? After he bought you breakfast and DINNER last night? Should I be jealous? Can you give me a review of the current situation?”

Jemma began at the beginning and Phil, amazingly enough, didn’t interrupt.

* * *

 

Felix Blake arrived at his office, and he was rather looking forward to living dangerously (e.g. having a muffin for breakfast as a reward for being nice to Simmons, well, as nice as he could be, opposed to being as vicious as he feared he could have been) when he realized that Dr. Simmons had taken not just the hard roll but the scientist had swiped his muffin also.

“No good deal goes unpunished,” he protested to the uncaring world. “No good muffin goes unswiped. I guess it’s coffee for breakfast.”

He stretched his back, trying to obtain some relief from his near constant discomfort when Director Hand descended upon his office. At her one side was Agent Michael Shaw and the other was Agent Sitwell. Jasper closed the door to the office while Queen Victoria (Hand) took the chair as her personal property.

“Oh, shit,” Blake swore. “Did Simmons complain that I was mean? Is that more of a Human Resource issue?”

“I don’t really care if you terrorized Simmons into catatonia, Felix,” Hand stated.  “I’m here to discuss your consult with the surgeon. When’s the surgery, Felix?”

“I’ve decided not to have the surgery,” admitted Felix.  He leaned on his desk to hide his discomfort from the re-aggravated old war wound that had turned him into a desk jockey. He had just slept the wrong way the night before. That was all.

Plus all the emotional and physical stress of dealing with Dr. Simmons had not been conducive to a good night’s sleep.

“Why not?” was her next question. “You’re in physical pain.”

“Vic, can we discuss this without Hugin and Munin hanging over your shoulder?” requested Felix.

She nodded and Odin’s Ravens… Vic’s Attack Dogs… left.  Felix leaned towards her and explained, “It’s the recovery period. If they do the revision laminectomy and the spinal fusion, I will need a great deal of assistance. I don’t have anyone to help me. The dogs… I don’t have anyone to take them while I recover. I’d have to give them up as I wouldn’t be able to take care of them   I can’t do that to them, as I’m the only family they have.  Old dogs, they don’t get adopted that easily. It would be different if… ” He stopped, exhaled and then continued, “If he hadn’t left. I had discussed having the revision with the surgeon and… then HE found HER and… I don’t have anyone… I can handle the pain for now. It’s manageable. And who knows, maybe my Soul Mark will show up and I can wait for eighteen years for my Soul Mate. I mean, aren’t Soul Mates supposed to help their Soul Partner when they can’t fucking walk? You know, it makes them feel…. **_Complete_**. I mean, they wouldn’t **_just_** walk off… because they found someone **_better_**.  It’s like abandoning an old, loyal but lame pit bull to the kill shelter because you wanted a fucking Yorkie puppy because they’re cute and you can put them in your purse.”

Victoria Hand was world renown by the various baby SHIELD Agents for her lack of compassion. However, she and Felix had been through hell and back again, so she reached for his face and leaned her face towards his.

“I would take that loyal pit bull any day over the yippy Yorkie, and he’s a fucking ass, Felix.”  Victoria softly informed him.  “If you had permitted us to help you move, you wouldn’t have further aggravated your back. You’re so convinced of your allegedly inferiority due to being Soul Mute, you won’t accept the fact that you have friends, who will stick by you, and if necessary will kick your ass after wiping it.”

Felix nodded his head, once. Roughly.

“You have me,” Victoria stated.  “Izzie also. Shaw and Jasper are your friends, as is Sam Jacobson, they’d be willing to help. Get your surgery scheduled, and we’ll take care of you.”

He said nothing so Victoria tightened her grip on his face.

“Promise,” she swore. “Promise. You can trust me of all people, Felix.”

“He fucking… promised… too,” Blake softly protested. “Before he found his Soul Mate.”

“He fucking lied, I don’t,” Victoria stated. “Now, the surgeon is waiting for you so she can give you your preop evaluation. After that, you’re getting medical clearance. March, you blasted asshole, down to Medical. I’m escorting you.”

* * *

 

“Really, you need to take the muffin back to him,” Phil informed Jemma. He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his amusement from his tone. “Or the roll. I’m rather confused which one you took and which one you stole. However, for the safety of all in the immediate fifty mile vicinity, Felix needs to be fed if in case he was planning on having the roll… or the muffin….”

“Heading off,” Jemma murmured.  “If you don’t hear from me again, I really enjoyed meeting you.”

Phil, for a wonder, didn’t laugh. No, he turned serious.

“Felix is a pit bull. He looks mean as hell. However, treat him well, and he’ll do anything for you. Finding out about us through those assholes, it wasn’t right, and it was my fault. So he’s angry with me, furious about the betrayal, snapping and barking on the outside, but he’s actually keeping an eye out for you. Really, walking in that area at night?” Phil tsk’d his disapproval. “And the fact that he’s feeding you? Not angry with you. For some reason, he’s taken you on as his responsibility.”

“In other words, I should anticipate that he’ll drop off a dead decapitated chipmunk in front of my door?” she asked.

Phil laughed, a warm, mellow laugh which made Jemma feel better. Just a smidgeon, but still better.

“One favor, though?” Phil asked. His voice was quite serious, but she could sense that he felt amused.

“Anything,” Jemma promised as she took a sip of her tea.

“Don’t give Felix a belly rub. Something may pop up.”

Really, it was simply marvelous tea on the way down, not so wonderful when it was being shot out of her nose.

* * *

Jemma Simmons wiped up the tea, and made her way to Agent Blake’s office.  When she arrived, Felix Blake was leaving his office and he was surrounded by several senior agents.

“Dr. Simmons,” he began.  “May I introduce you to Agent Sitwell?”

A bald baby-faced agent with gold rimmed glasses nodded his head.

“Agent Shaw,” he continued as a stone faced agent nodded his head.

“And Assistant Director Hand.” He didn’t even bother to hide his amusement as Jemma inhaled. Sharply.  Her eyes turned into Big Disney Eyes aka Adoring-Bambi Eyes and Felix snorted.  Simmons appeared close to Swooning in complete Fan Girl Adoration.  

“I-just-wanted-to-return-this-as-I-accidentally-took-this. Thank-you.” She ran off then and Victoria looked at Felix who was left literally holding the bag.

He opened the bag then smiled before he happily announced, “I got the muffin.” His expressive face fell. “However, she took all the butter.”

“That’s Coulson’s baby?” Victoria Hand sighed.

“She fan girled over you,” Felix pointed out. “I think Dr. Simmons was in dire danger of swooning over you.”

He looked at Victoria and tilted his head. “Do you think I should warn Izzie?”

“No, no, no. She’s **_twelve_** ,” protested a very indignant Victoria Hand. “Besides Simmons being knifed would be hard to explain.”

“Twenty five,” stated Felix. “I should send him a case of Viagra. Just to prove no hard…. Feelings.”

Victoria Hand rolled her eyes, plainly stating that all men were assholes, and imperiously pointed toward Medical. “Doctor. Now.”

* * *

 

Victoria Hand had been her usual efficient self as she had acquired all of his Medical Records and even his surgeon from NYC was sitting in the Conference Room waiting for him.  The years of his life were spread before him, including pictures of the original cataclysmic accident that had turned him into a desk jockey after repeated rounds of spinal surgery. Well, he had been lucky because a break at that particular C-level normally would have killed him, so he struggled to be positive about shuffling papers.

“Agent Blake,” Dr. Neufield quietly stated.  “I understand that you’ve been having some increase in your pain level. I’m here at the Hub for the next four months, so I will be able to easily follow up on your care.”

**_When I was in that damn halo, you told me it didn’t matter, Coulson. That you’d never leave. Fucking liar._ **

“I think it’s time,” he softly admitted in defeat. He was feeling utterly bludgeoned by both the constant pain and the sheer adorability of Jemma Simmons. “I have to confess that I’m rather tired of the pain and the pain medication really isn’t helping. When can you schedule me?”

“Two days from now if we can get you medically cleared,” Neufield informed him. The tiny blonde looked sympathetic. “I know it is extremely short notice, but you’ve been putting this off, Agent.”

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

“Let’s do it,” he announced.

* * *

 

The next few days flew by, Jemma was happy to report to Phil.  Felix Blake continued to mind her but he rarely spoke beyond determining from where she had ordered dinner.  In comparison to his earlier brusqueness, his silence was rather unnerving.

On Thursday night, he pulled up to the hotel and then spoke, “Tomorrow, I will be unable to drive you, Dr. Simmons. Jasper Sitwell will pick you up tomorrow at nine and he will take you to the train station. Here’s his contact information.”

He handed her a card and she placed it in her wallet.

“Oh,” Jemma murmured. She widely smiled and informed him, “I would have thought you’d like to have seen the back of my head as I got on the train.”

He turned to face her, moving stiffly in the driver’s seat. “I actually have no need to do so. I placed a biological tracker on you the first time I met you, just in case I had to rescue you. It should wear off in a few days.”

He then settled back into the driver’s seat. Jemma Simmons, daring greatly, placed her hand on his and squeezed it. He recoiled like she was a cobra.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on me while I was at The Hub. It was unnecessary but it was greatly appreciated.” For added irresistibility, she gave him a big smile.

He nodded once and continued to stare straight ahead.

“Please, call Phil. He wants to talk to you,” she requested.

The pit bull provoked, he attacked. Verbally. Thankfully.

Felix Blake turned towards her and he growled, displaying all his teeth. “There is **_nothing_** I wish to say to him. **_Nothing_**. **_IS THAT UNDERSTOOD_**?”

She pulled back, and he sighed.  “Get out, Dr. Simmons. It’s been a very long day and I’m tired. Try not to get murdered between today and tomorrow when you get on the train.”

After she made her escape, she leaned back into the Jeep. “I am sorry…” she began.

“Why? It was only a temporary fling,” he quietly stated.  “Get out. Stay safe. Hope never ever to see you again.”

She closed the Jeep door and returned back to her hotel room.  She was about to enter her hotel room when a familiar voice asked, “Do you need help?”

**_Phil!_ **

“I missed you and decided to take tomorrow off so I could drive you home. Or away on a holiday?” He offered.

She dropped her takeaway on the floor and hugged him tightly as she needed closeness. His stability, his very Phil-ness helped balance her and ease her unhappiness over upsetting Felix Blake. Phil could sense her uneasiness, as he whispered her name over and over, and continued to hold her until she felt better.

“Do you want a roomie?” he asked when they finally broke apart. He put his finger under her chin and lifted it so she was looking at him.  “Else I can go find a room for tonight?”

“YES!” she stated. Then she looked up at him, and prompted, “There’s only one bed.”

He gave her a very shy smile and nodded his head. “I know. Would you…be willing to take a chance on a man of my age? I’m nervous because… it’s only been Felix for the last twenty years… and… I really miss the physical closeness. And I want this to be really good for you.”

She nodded. Eagerly. Happily.

* * *

 

Friday morning

“I would kill for a cup of coffee,” Felix Blake confessed from his gurney. He was wearing a patient gown and a supportive Victoria Hand was sitting next to him.  Dr. Neufield was checking off various items on her tablet, and then she placed it on the desk.

“Are you ready?” she asked Felix.

He looked for support from Victoria and she nodded her head.

“Guess I am as ready as I will ever be. And Vic?” He stopped as he watched Dr. Neufield put something in his IV.  “You don’t have to be there when I wake. You’ve got a base to run.”

Victoria Hand, she of the black and scarlet hair, six foot eight in her bare feet and able to kill a Soviet Spy with a paperclip, leaned over him.

“I will be here,” she promised. “Promise.”

 

 

 

 


	8. If I Fell in Love with You

A/N - Just a reminder that Garrett is HYDRA in this, so he’s sowing CHAOS – how better than to pit Phil Coulson and his friends verses Felix and his group? And when a long-term couple breaks up, it’s not unusual for the couple’s friends to automatically take sides. It’s really rare for someone to sit down and tell the couple, “I think you’re both idiots.” So yes, Felix’s friends will take his side.

 _If I fell in love with you_  
Would you promise to be true  
And help me understand  
Cos I've been in love before  
And I found that love was more  
Than just holding hands.

“If I Fell” by The Beatles

* * *

 

Thursday night

All the various magazines she had read and the endless gossip she had endured had **_promised_** that the First Time with One’s Soul Mate, the Earth would move, the Heavens would open and multi-orgasms were guaranteed. At no point, did they mention how awkward it would be, the hesitancy, the tentativeness and the diffidence because your Soul Mate wanted everything to be perfect for you.   How utterly heartbreaking it was to be kissed so thoroughly by your Soul Mate, but to still sense his nervousness.

“Do you want this?” she asked when they had ceased kissing. They were lying together in bed, clothes still on (Still on! STILL ON!) and they had just kissed and kissed for the last fifteen minutes.

Really, she wanted it RIGHT NOW as she was close to imploding from sexual frustration. And wouldn’t THAT mess be hard to explain to the maid?

“Yes,” he said, with such sincerity that she felt ashamed for doubting him. “I want **_this_**. I want **_you_**. You have been so unbelievably patient with me. I mean, anyone else would have kicked me to the curb by now. Requested Soul Mate with a better hair line. Someone without my emotional baggage and tread wear.”

Really, didn’t Phil understand that it didn’t matter what he looked like? They were **_Soul Mates._**

“Our first time doesn’t need to be perfect,” she protested.  “We will have time to explore and experiment.”

“I want it to be perfect.”

So earnest and sincere, and worried about hurting her. **_Because he had really hurt Felix._**

“You’re thinking of **_him_**? **_Now_**?” she whispered as that thought had been most assuredly HIS, not HERS. “It’s our first time, and **_he’s_** here? In your head?”

She sat up then and placed her hands over her mouth. Phil sat up and hesitantly hugged her. His upset was coming through loud and clear through their Soul Bond and she just wished for a moment that Phil would just STOP. Phil physically recoiled at that thought and then he softly spoke, “I can’t lie. I fear hurting you. It took forever to get behind his walls, and I think this proved that he always secretly doubted me. Rightly or wrongly, his immediate reaction wasn’t even to ask what happened, instead, he ran. You, on the other hand, have been so trusting of me, I can’t help… but… worry…”

He continued to hold her and she gradually relaxed back into his embrace.

“Should I leave?” he softly questioned.

“No, I want you to stay. I still want to have sex tonight. Don’t you?” Jemma asked.

“No.” Phil began, and he held her as she pulled away both physically and emotionally, “I want to make love. There’s a **_difference_**.”

She relaxed in his arms and sighed.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

“By your command,” he retorted which earned him an elbow poke.

“Ow!” he protested as he stopped kissing her to rub his rib.

* * *

After a very … delicious session of languorous lovemaking. Jemma fell into an exhausted sleep. However to Phil’s delighted pride, she wore a rather blissful smile. Phil was still awake and he continued to stroke her back slowly even as he listened to her breathe.

He closed his eyes, and was content to drift into slumber. However, his thoughts refused to let him sleep.

_He was walking down a hallway corridor in a hospital. When he came to a certain room, he confirmed it matched the room number he had scrawled on his hand and entered. Felix Blake was in an ungodly contraption… a halo, his mind provided and fortunately, Felix was sleep. Hesitantly, Phil took Felix’ hand and Felix’s eyes opened.  His eyes were bright and glassy, which meant he was on some heavy duty shit._

_“Phil? You really here?” Felix asked. His voice was low and raspy, no doubt from the various surgeries he had endured. Felix was being credited with a bust of a major terrorist ring, but did he really need to get hit by a car? Yes, the head bad girl had decided to go THROUGH the building’s FRONT DOOR with her CAR to stop the bust, to no avail. Good guys won, however Felix was pretty banged up.  Several cracked vertebrate and a fracture in the cervical spine, there was no way Felix was ever going out in the field again. He might get pensioned off, or maybe spun into being a desk jockey._

_“Yes,” Phil kept his voice soft._

_“You… Not the drugs?” was Felix’s next question.  His voice was slurred and he had trouble keeping his eyes open._

_“Yes. Of course I’m here,” Phil protested. “Do you really think I wouldn’t come when I heard that you broke your neck?”_

_“You’re in Nairobi,” Felix mumbled._

_He had been, but once the news had hit the SHIELD gossip network, Phil had pulled in a few favors owed to get back to DC._

_“I’m in DC,” Phil stated. “Because your mission went ass over tit, and you got hurt. However I would have gotten here sooner if someone had me listed as the person to contact in case of emergency. Instead I had to hear about it second hand.”_

_Felix had closed his eyes, so Phil believed he was about to go back to sleep._

_“Next of kin is reserved for family and Soul Mates,” Felix mumbled. “We’re just fuck friends, Phil.”_

_“Three years of just being fuck buddies, Felix, I’m truly hurt.” Really, he shouldn’t press on with this conversation, but Felix was usually pretty reticent when it came to that whole Soul Mates shit. He was on some really serious shit if he was talking about it._

_“Not Soul Mates,” Felix mumbled. “Wanted you to be. Paid all that money to those assholes to test me,  ‘cuz I thought you were, cuz of the way we are together….  and… we’re not Soul Mates because I’m Soulless.”_

_“You got tested?” Phil asked. “You thought that testing was just a scam.”_

_“Just wanted to know about you,” Felix admitted. “Us. There’s no US. You’ll fucking leave when your Soul Mate arrives. Your dick will engage, your soul will leap and I’ll be left on the sidelines.”_

_“I promise you that won’t happen,” Phil stated. “If I didn’t think you were worth the long haul, I would have been gone the first time I saw you without coffee in the AM. That was goddamn scary, Blake.”_

_“Others promised that they’d stay,” Felix explained as he struggled to stay awake. “And here I am. Looking like a goddamn BDSM fantasy come true.”_

_“I’m here,” Phil reminded to the now deeply asleep Felix.  “I know you, Felix. Despite that, I’m still here.”_

_He moved into Felix’s apartment after Felix was released from the hospital. Took leave from work so he could take care of his very irascible and cantankerous patient plus Felix’s two elderly rescued pits, Bogie and Bacall.  Hadn’t left during the extensive rehab, and when Blake had slipped into a deep depression when he realized the extent of his injuries. Didn’t mean Phil didn’t work a case or three, but they were locally based._

_That’s when he met the Faux Soul Marker. Offered him a trade, Mark Blake and obtain his Freedom, or Phil would take him in._

_“Inscribe, ‘I know you’,” on his forearm,” Phil had instructed the artist who had nodded his understanding. “Make it big, make it bold, make it readable from across the room. I want everyone to know that he's got a claim on his Soul."_

_“Why **that**?” Blake asked._

_“Was the first thing I ever said to you when we got partnered on that case, don’t you remember?”  Phil stated. With a dry laugh he added, “Fortunately, I’m not wearing ‘Well, isn’t that absolutely fucking fantastic that I graced your presence’?”_

_That night they had sex for the first time since Blake got hurt, done carefully as Blake had just gotten rid of the halo. Really, it was just Phil doing all the work but really Blake deserved one hell of a hell of a Welcome home, Hero after the delay._

_“Does that sting?” Phil asked, regarding the Faux Soul Mark._

_“A little,” Felix admitted, drowsy in the afterglow.  “Why did you do it?”_

_“Marked you as mine,” Phil stated. “I guess it was the only way you’d believe I was here for the long haul.”_

_“When she shows up, you be the one to tell me,” Felix softly requested. “I don’t want to hear about it from anyone else. Promise me.”_

_“Felix…” Phil protested._

_“Just promise,” Felix requested.  “Don't hurt my pride like her.  Because, I couldn't stand the pain… And I would be…”_

_“I know that song,” quipped Phil. “So I hope you see that I would love to love you.”_

He was still awake thirty minutes later when his mind began roaming. Again.

_Felix grimaced as he stood._

_“Back?” Phil asked, though he accepted that it was. Knew how snappish Felix was when he was in pain, how he turned mulish and refused to listen. There had been other incidents in their past, when Felix had been in pain, and he hadn’t shared that news with Phil because of that damn blasted fear he had regarding their relationship.  That because the two of them weren’t Soul Mates, there was no reason in Felix’s mind why Phil wouldn’t abandon him when things got tough, when a needy Felix, crippled by his physical pain, would need him the most. And those where the times that Phil would have to bite his tongue the most, because Felix seemed genuinely surprised that Phil stuck with him through the bad times._

_Felix nodded._

_“Appointment with the surgeon?” Phil prompted._

_“Tomorrow at four,” Felix admitted, which meant that he was in a HELL of a lot of pain if he had scheduled an appointment.  “I know you’re off to New Mexico tomorrow. We’re just discussing options, maybe physical therapy will be enough. I don’t want to endure a revision.”_

_“Did you schedule the appointment so I wouldn’t be able to go?” Phil asked._

_“First time I could get an appointment. I’ll let you know what she says when I call you tomorrow night,” Felix had promised._

Oh fuckity fuck fuck, Felix had called him the next night and he been totally ‘Bondized’  - completely fixated on Simmons. No wonder Felix had refused to speak to him after they had met in the coffee shop. Because he needed surgery and he wasn’t about to crawl on his belly and beg his ex PHIL, newly Bonded, PHIL for help.

He took his phone and carefully tapped out a message to one of his contacts in the bowels of Administration.

The response came back almost immediately.

**_SRSLY DO U KNO THE TIME?_ **

_Y!  But I need to know._

**_I shouldn’t be giving you this information – but in answer to question - F Medical’d for a broken hand 6 mo ago, out again starting this week for surgery. Not sure when or if he’ll be back as he’s getting his back redone. He was in bad enough shape that Queen Victoria involved herself. MXM_ **

_Thnxs._

It didn’t seem that he’d be getting much sleep that night, Phil realized. He had no idea how to fix the mess he had help create.


	9. Chapter 9

_Does she talk, the way I do?_  
 _Is her voice reminding you_  
 _Of the promises, the little white lies too?_  
 _Sometimes, tell me, while she's touching you_  
 _Just by mistake, accidentally do you say my name?_

"Jealousy" – Natalie Merchant

 

Late Friday morning

“Too much enthusiasm?” Jemma chirped as she watched Phil stretch.  There was a moment when he stretched and then he stopped mid-stretch with a very odd expression on his face. He held the pose for a good minute or so as if he wasn’t too sure, and then he eased into a more comfortable position.

“Lower back is twinging,” he admitted. “You?”

“Somewhat, which I’m blaming on you and your keenness to shag me through the mattress,” she admitted with a contented sigh.  “I’ll call for a late checkout.”

“That would be wonderful though I think just asking if we could stay another day to recover and regroup would be even better,” he admitted. “I’d like a long shower. Care to join me?”

“Yes,” she gleefully stated.  She sat up and wrapped the sheet around her.

“You don’t really need to hide yourself,” Phil murmured. “I’d like to admire the view. I’m not done worshipping it.”

To his deep unease, she giggled. Loudly.

“I was serious,” he protested, a tad wounded, truth be told. But he couldn’t prevent himself from giggling also, as her laugh was infectious. “I am! I am!”

“I know,” she admitted, before she giggled again. “I feel rather **_giddy_**.”

“I do too,” he admitted.  If Phil didn’t know better, he’d swear he was drugged.

* * *

 

There a great deal of water outside of the shower stall by the time they were done, but Phil toweled her off and then cleaned the mess. Really, it was lovely being in a relationship with an **_adult_**. Because Phil was creative and fun (and EXPERIENCED) and cleaned up after himself. She had just finished ordering takeaway as she was ravenous after being delightfully ravaged the ENTIRE NIGHT LONG when he sat next to her on the bed.

“Hey,” he said. “Management requested that next time we keep the water IN the showe stall.”

Jemma giggled as she really felt giddy. Plus the look on his face made him really adorable, however, she could sense something was off with Phil.

“That was a lot of fun,” he murmured. He leaned towards her and they kissed for a bit. When they broke apart, she placed her hand on his cheek. “Damn me for waiting for so long. I could have been having so much fun all this time.”

“What’s bothering you? Is it Felix?” Jemma asked.

Phil grimaced and Jemma continued, “I can tell.  There’s a bit of a difference when work is troubling you or when it’s Felix. I’m not angry, I’m trying to be supportive and understanding.”

“And sexy?” Phil quipped.

“I don’t need to try to be sexy, I **_am_** sexy,” Jemma informed Phil.  She giggled again, and Phil just stared at her.

“Why are you so giddy?” he asked. “We didn’t polish off a bottle of wine or three, and you shouldn’t be drunk though I do feel a bit intoxicated myself. However, I am drunk on you, so it’s acceptable in my case.”

“You’re changing the subject. What did Felix do?” Jemma asked. Deliberately, she lay back in the bed and positioned the sheet just so…

“Part of the reason why Felix seems to be rather irritable is that he has issues with his back. Fifteen years ago, he was hit by a car and… he broke his neck and cracked a few vertebrae… he has endured quite a few surgeries to deal with recurrent, resurgent issues. Before I left for New Mexico, he had an appointment with his surgeon, but I got pulled out earlier that morning that I had anticipated plus I met you…. so I never found out what the result of their conversation was.  I was advised that he’s out on medical for surgery,” Phil admitted. “His surgeon’s at the Hub currently, so…”

“You believe that he’s in the Medical Post-Op unit.” Jemma sat up and pulled on a shirt, enjoying Phil’s obvious disappointment.  “He most likely had it today as he told me that he wouldn’t be able to drive me to the train station today. I can’t tell you if you should go see him, because he may not want you there. He needs a peaceful recovery… but…”

Really, Felix Blake had pretty much hired one of those road side billboards and plastered a big sign that said ‘DO NOT EVER TALK TO ME AGAIN, PHIL’  to get his point across. Why was Phil still struggling? And why, being his Soul Mate, did she feel rather jealous?

“I’ve tried to be there for every one of his surgeries,” Phil admitted. “I’d make sure he had all the essentials for his post-surgery recovery, as he’d be so focused on the surgery that he would forget something vital that he’d need. I hope someone took over that responsibility. I mean, everyone knows Blake is a caffeine addict, but he requires copious amounts of gelato during his recovery period.”

She was struggling to be understanding, not jealous but still it twinged a little, (A little!) how much Phil worried over his former partner.

“Why don’t you make him up a care package? Drop it off at Medical and they’ll ensure that he gets its,” she suggested. “Perhaps a few gift cards to some local restaurants that deliver?”

“He’ll use the gift cards, as opposed to just tossing them. He’s very pragmatic,” Phil admitted. “After lunch, I’ll run out and pick up a few items.”

He relaxed, and Jemma could feel how much easier he felt. While he couldn’t be **_there_** for Felix, he still could be **_there_** for him. Phil’s caring nature was a real turn on, however… Felix Blake?

“I could help?” Jemma offered. It was only because she wished to be helpful, not because she was jealous.   ** _Seriously_**. Really. 

“Why don’t you just… **_relax_**?” Phil asked. “You know, just spend a few hours doing nothing.”

“That sounds lovely,” she white-lied. “I could use a nap after last night.”

“Tonight,” he assured her, all puppy dog sincerity, “Tonight will be even better so make sure you take a nice long nap.”

* * *

 

Felix Blake was floating in the warm fuzziness of the drugged thanks to his very own Personal Analgesia Pump (PCA). Post-surgery, the surgeon had spoken to him, he responded, hopefully appropriately, as one time apparently he had told her to go fuck off and let him sleep (in his defense, it had been after they halo’d him, he had a reaction to one of the anesthesia drugs and Phil had bought lunch for her office staff to apologize after he had found out about Felix’s bad behavior), and he was then permitted to sleep for a bit after a brief period of rather painful ambulation.

There was a brief disturbance and he opened his eyes to growl and snap at whomever dared disturb him. If it was Jasper, well, he’d kill him. When he could walk unaided once more.  To his deep surprise, it was someone else. Must be the drugs as he had done everything he could to push that person away. Horrible things, with only the best intent, because Phil deserved a Soul Mate. To find completion with some kid that looked at Phil as though he hung the fucking stars.

Phil couldn’t find love, sex and utter fulfilment with a Soulless desk jockey who was tired of his chronic pain, who didn’t care to hear about Steve Rogers trivia in the afterglow and who adopted Pit Bulls because he felt a sense of solidarity with them. You know, the butt ugly and mean (and completely undeserved) reputation was a strong bond.

Fuck, he had even tried to traumatize Simmons in reporting to Phil what an Utter Bastard Felix Blake was. Phil should have swooped in and console the Scientist. He hadn’t been very successful with that, as he had ended up being PROTECTIVE. Must be the big Bambi eyes, he realized.

“Phil?” he whispered.

“Hey,” Phil whispered.

“You really here?” He couldn’t be.

“Just wanted to make sure you had your post-surgery supplies,” whispered Phil. “Leaving them on the chair. You close your eyes, get some sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No,” protested Felix. “When I wake up, you’ll be gone. I know how this ends, you’re gonna leave me again.”

Phil leaned over him and kissed him on his cheek.

“Go to sleep, Felix.  I’ve got all your supplies for your post recovery needs. There’s gift cards for restaurants who deliver, for iTunes, for Amazon for your Kindle. Speaking of Kindles, I bought you the new one with an Otterbox so you don’t have to worry about Sonya sleeping on it and cracking the display. There’s Crocs that you can slip your feet into, a new robe… plus the usual medicinal supplies you’ll need. That way you don’t have to explain to Victoria Hand the joys of narcotics on your delicate gastrointestinal system.”

The two men were quiet with Felix close to drifting off to sleep once again, and then Phil asked, “There’s no way we can be friends?”

“Simmons wouldn’t be able to handle it,” Felix growled.

“I think she could,” Phil protested. “She’s rather remarkable.”

“That’s your Soul Bond talking. You’re a fucking fool that thinks with his dick,” spat Felix.  “This ain’t my first rodeo. I know how this starts, how it ends. I’ve just decided to cut out the long drawn out middle part where the two Soul Mates realized that the Soulless Wonder Boy puts a damper on their True and Destined Love. I’ve been through that several times, Phil, long before I met you. If you told her that you’re coming here, she’s probably worried and jealous.”

“She’s the one that suggested it,” Phil admitted.

“Really fucking stupid, Phil. She said, make up a care package and go see your ex?”  Felix asked.  “Seriously?”

Really, he knew Phil too well, as Phil looked guilty.  Someone who didn’t know Phil as well as Felix did, would think Phil was pokerfaced, but there was a twitch. Guilty!

“She told me to drop it at the desk and someone would deliver it to you,” admitted Phil.

“I hope to God you bought her something big and sparkly when you were buying me my laxatives,” snapped Felix. “And I don’t know why I’m helping you with your Soul Mate, Coulson.  Get out of here before you fuck it up.”

 _And rebound back to me_ , _heartbroken, because you screwed up_ , Felix thought _.  I’d take you back in a heartbeat._ _Because at least now, I’d know who my competition is and I’d have a way to compete by offering you the ability to be completely self-absorbed every now and then without destroying my psyche. Right now, I bet Simmons is sobbing into her pillow because her Soul Mate is visiting his hospitalized ex.  When she composes herself, she’ll buy herself something slinky and seduce you the minute you walk through the door. However, you’ll have something sparkly to give her so it will be an emotional impasse._

He closed his eyes, hit his PCA pump, because he was in pain, both physical and emotional. It was carefully calibrated, so it wasn’t like he’d get too much, but maybe there was enough in the dose to ease him into sleep.

“Drop me a note sometime. Let me know how you’re doing, Felix,” requested Phil. “Pictures of the dogs, anything.”

Felix nodded his head, once, and he heard Phil leave his room.

“You were always foolishly optimistic,” Felix murmured. “My bull shit detector always balanced you. I fear that Simmons is too much of a romantic kid, Phil.”

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons permitted herself a brief session of waterworks. That done, she showered and repaired the damage through a few makeup tricks.  Phil had been gone for a few hours, which was surprising, as how hard was it to get a few gift cards? Why was she so jealous of FELIX BLAKE?  Why was she Googling lingerie shops?

Thirty minutes, her credit card was steaming and she owned something that the sales person had promised her would have Phil’s undivided attention. She returned back to the hotel room, took another shower to freshen up and she convinced herself to wear it. Or more correctly have the strappy one piece with multiple cutouts wear HER.

That done, she put on a pair of PMN (Pleasure Me NOW!) boots with dangerous heels and she decided to position herself smack dab in the middle of the bed.  Lord knew she couldn’t walk in those boots as they were eye candy, porn boots.

Instead, she was greeted by Phil Coulson who had brought in dinner. The table was completed with flowers, candles and small box with a large bow on what she assumed was her dinner plate. There was soft music playing and Phil was humming to himself.  He heard her come out of the shower, so he turned around to face her. He was struggling with a bottle of champagne and the cork loudly popped once he saw her, the champagne spilling everywhere.

 


	10. Death of a Friend (Love Lies Bleeding)

Death of a Friend (Love Lies Dying) ~ Elton John

* * *

 

Phil stared at Jemma who was dressed to impress and to seduce. He was completely slack jawed, until he realized that his leather shoes were getting quite damp. In fact, they were most likely ruined. He poured the remains of champagne then in the glasses and then  he exhaled.

“You need to warn me before you wear something like that,” he requested. He put the champagne down and picked up the small box. He handed it to her, and smiled. “Open.”

She carefully opened the small package to reveal a double heart pendant on a long silver chain.  One heart was gold, one was silver and they were entwined. It was… beautiful… but that wasn’t why she was near tears. It was because of the symbolism.  Soul Mates, thoroughly entwined with each other.  This pendant from Phil reassured her that the ghastly specter of Felix Blake had been dealt with, that Phil was no longer struggling with their relationship AND his relationship with Felix.  He had been gone for hours, so she had assumed the worst, as their Soul Bond had been strained from the start, so unlike the movies and their happy ever after she had devoured as a young teen.

After all, he and Felix had been together for twenty years, they were of the same age, and there must have been SOMETHING ….hidden …. **_DEEP_** …. In Felix Blake that had kept Phil in the relationship.  She didn’t know what it could have been because with the exception of the first time she had met him in the bodega on a dark night, Felix had always just made her feel… like a kid. A bratty kid that needed to be protected as she was clueless about her personal safety.

 And the less said about Blake’s friends, the better.  Victoria Hand (Oh God, she hadn’t fangrrlled on her? Had she?)  and the rest of her motley crew (Sitwell, Shaw, Jackson) were obviously Team-Blake.  And NOT Team Blake-Coulson, but Team BLAKE.  She had numerous relationships before Phil and it wasn’t unusual for friends to take sides in a breakup, but… TEAM BLAKE was rather torqued at Phil and not particularly impressed with Phil’s new kiddie girlfriend.

Yes, she was a few years… decades younger than Phil. However, in her defense, she had multiple doctorates, she was brilliant in her field, and she wouldn’t let them intimidate her.  Which was easier said than done, because face to face with Felix’s ‘So Not Amused with YOU’ Face, she felt herself retreating back into the socially awkward brainiac of her early teens. Least she didn’t look as though she was hit with the acne stick besides being pudgy to boot.

“I know that I haven’t been the Soul Mate you deserve. Hopefully, things will get better now,” Phil softly admitted.  “I have to break fifty years of bad habits. So there’s also a certificate included that gives you unlimited ‘Kick Phil in the ass as he’s being an idiot’ ass kickings.”

There really was a certificate, signed by Phil, no less, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

“Hey? Are you crying?” His voice was soft and affectionate, which made her even weepier.

She nodded.

“Why?” he asked. He gently wiped away the tears on her cheeks with his fingers.

“I’m happy,” she tearfully admitted.

**_Because you treat me like an adult.  Because we’re getting closer and we’re learning to trust each other.  Because you obviously visited Felix and you still came back to me because you want to commit to US._ **

“I don’t like you happy like this,” he protested. “Dare I say that I might prefer you a little sad?”

“Just kiss me,” she ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am!”

He kissed her. Once. On the lips.

“Seriously? Is that the best you can do?” she mock protested.

“Jemma, I promise you that I will spend years perfectly my technique for you,” Phil assured her.

“I want decades with you, so I can see if you can improve on perfection,” Jemma teased.

“Centuries,” he promised.

* * *

 

Phil and Jemma grew steadily closer and closer and more and more in love until Phil proposed a commitment ceremony.  It was a small gathering of their closest friends, and full of love and support. It was emotionally overwhelming to Jemma because Phil’s friends had come to accept her, which meant a great deal to her.

John Garrett dutifully informed Felix Blake of the ceremony and pretended sincere surprise that Felix hadn’t been invited. Having read Felix’s psych profile, (with Blake classified as a demi-sexual, Soul Less Wonder boy with severe fear of abandonment that prevented him from trusting many people ) the agent also known as The Clairvoyant was still quite delighted that Felix Blake’s self-destruction exceeded his wildest hopes. Blake went on a bender of such magnitude that John Garrett and Grant Ward were able to strengthen HYDRA’s infiltration of SHIELD, all because Monitor Boy had a hangover that lasted DAYS.

-=-=

“Hey,” Phil whispered to Jemma Simmons who was sleeping on his chest. It had been a year of waking up with Jemma sleeping on his chest, and while it was uncomfortable, it never grew old. “Would you mind moving? I need to get to the office before I leave for Neverland.”

Neverland being Nick Fury’s sick idea of a code name for Project Pegasus which located in the Rocky Mountains.  Directory Fury wanted Phil Coulson out there for a week or two, so off Phil went.

Jemma murmured a sleepy protest.

“Sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back,” he reminded her.

“When you come back, maybe we can discuss starting a family,” Jemma whispered.

He felt like the Grinch as his heart grew three sizes at the very thought of a little Jemma to love and spoil.  When he finally managed to compose himself, he shakily admitted, “I’d like that.”

“Hurry back and we can start practicing,” Jemma murmured.

“I hope we can continue practicing after we’re successful.”

Jemma snorted a very unlady like snort as her head disappeared beneath the blanket.  Phil’s last coherent thought for some time was the team wouldn’t leave for Neverland without him, so they’d have to wait.

* * *

 

Felix Blake was once more stationed in New York.  The Hub had been an imperfect refuge, at best, as Fury had kept demanding his physical appearance in New York for the Goddamn World Security Council meetings until at last the orders had come down from high. Get Blake’s ass back to New York. Once he returned back to New York, he could sense an impeding cataclysmic calamity. He just couldn’t figure out the whys, the wheres and most importantly the WHEN, but something big was about to happen. It disturbed his sleep and no one else seemed to notice.

These days, he came into work early to watch his monitors. It wasn’t that he was avoiding Phil as there was no reason to do so, but he wasn’t actively searching him out. It was long over, as Felix understood that the better (wo)man had won.  He had accepted the bitter truth after an alcoholic binge of Bacchanalian proportions that had nearly required him to get his stomach pumped.

Since then, he been on a few dates after he had found out that Phil had been Committed…err.. sorry BONDED to Simmons.  They had been nice ladies, (who had regretfully lost their Soul Mates so they weren’t looking for The Romance of Their Lives but instead someone to go to a show or a move with.) who thought him old-fashioned and sweet as he didn’t maneuver them into bed on the first or second date.  They thought he was a gentleman. Ha! He was a **_freak_** , after all, a DemiSexual Soul Mute… which meant he didn’t have a Soul Mate and he didn’t experience sexual attraction unless he had a strong emotional connection with someone. That didn’t mean he couldn’t jump in a willing woman’s bed at the drop of a hat, but he wasn’t experiencing that sense of “I’d like to get you into bed now and have you scream my name loud enough so the neighbors will call the cops” that he had with Phil (Or the few others before him).

And yes he had found a new coffee shop as well the old one had closed and reopened as a yoghurt, smoothie and granola bar.

He ran a few data queries, determined to discover what was WRONG, cross tabbed several incidents and ran an algorithm, carried the five, threw salt over his shoulder to scare off the Devil (AKA Turtle neck wearing JOHN GARRETT with the receding hairline that accentuated his devil horns and his crazed look in his eyes) and he waited for the result.

BING!

He reviewed the results and shook his head.  No, no, no.  Not ALIENS! NOT AGAIN!

“Pull all records on Asgardians,” he queried.  “Advise how long it will take to pull all records.”

The computer voice informed him it would be fifteen minutes so he decided to meander down to the cafeteria to grab some chow and caffeine (three floors down and to the left). He could take the elevator, take the steps or he could take the air vents as supposedly Barton hung out in them. He had his doubts, as really, he was another victim of the rumor mill.

Which meant that he ran into Phil Coulson who was also taking the steps.

 ** _Bam_**.

He nodded his head once and tried to sidestep Phil, which was impossible on a staircase. He sidestepped, Phil sidestepped. It was like two dancers fighting over who’d lead.

“Felix, seriously, you can’t even say Hello to me?” Phil asked.

It would be immature but emotionally satisfying to say, “You didn’t say hello first!”

“Hello.” Felix stated.  Then he added, “Congratulations on your Bonding.”

He stepped down one step and Phil held out his arm, blocked him from moving further down.

“Felix,” Phil protested.

“Phil,” Felix interrupted.  “One thing. You were involved with that Asgardian, right?”

“Yes,” Phil agreed. “Why?”

“What did you think of him and his crew?”  Felix asked.

“Thor’s ok, but **_loud_**.  Of the Warrior Three and Lady Sif, I only chatted with Lady Sif. She’s a BAMF. Loki is an ass.” Phil stated that easily.

“I… just watch out for the Asgardian.   Any Asgardians.  I don’t have hard data,” Felix began.

“I trust your instincts,” Phil admitted.  “I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

The two men nodded and began to go their separate ways. Phil stopped ascending the steps and called down to Felix. “Anything happens to me, you’ll still keep an eye out on Jemma, won’t you? There’s no one else I’d trust. Besides you’re doing such a good job, why get someone new?”

“That obvious?” Felix sighed. “Slipping in my old age. Must have been me fixing that ticket for her. You need to watch her need for speed.”

“She doesn’t know about the Felix Blake Protection Agency, but I do, only because I **_know_** you,” Phil admitted. “I hope you find someone, someone better than me.”

“Not likely,” Felix tiredly admitted. “However, I will keep an eye on her if anything happens to you. However, I think she’d appreciate you staying hale and hearty.”

Phil laughed and thanked Felix.

* * *

 

When scepter-wielding Loki Mussolini pierced his chest, Phil Coulson remembered his final conversation with Felix as he collapsed to the floor.

_Fucking Asgardian!!! You warned me, Felix._

“Remember, you promised to watch over Jemma, Felix,” was his last thought before everything faded to grey and he shuffled off that mortal coil.

Meanwhile at that moment, Felix Blake was crawling through the SHIELD Headquarters in NYC that was overrun by Chitauri. He’d keep his promise to Phil even if was the last thing he’d do which meant he had to crawl through the damn vents and locate her.


	11. Can't Cry Hard Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm in an Angst Contest with Lachesis Grimme

Felix Blake crawled through the vents, quietly cursing his stupidity, his willingness to attempt to defend that woman (Simmons) who had merrily shredded his life to bits and had pretended to care. (Sucks to be you, Blake.) Nekko and Sonya were quiet behind him as he had planned on taking them to Puppy Day Camp when his instincts had kicked in. Slipped them into his office, which meant Fury would be notified later rather than sooner as the Helicarrier was currently having difficulty staying afloat (right term? – asky? Maybe that was the better word though up in the air was the more appropriate term – he would look it up later for his reprimand report as he had brought his dogs to the office and was currently breaking the Battle Containment Zones by going through the air ducts). The minute he saw that sick fuck Loki on his monitor, he knew that he needed to locate Simmons as the shit was gonna hit the fan.  He grabbed his portable computers and headed off to the Land of Brains, Brains and Even More Brains aka Geek World.

The alarms sounded, the doors locked in position and that had left the air ducts until the Alarm Level increased and the air vents were shut down. Probably fifteen minutes max, so he better hustle. Nekko the Japanese Terrier was a svelte eight pounds so he went into the computer bag, while Sonya was sixty pounds of solid dog.  Fifty pounds maximum was what he was supposed to lift due to his various back surgeries, so he had asked Sonya to think light thoughts as he had pushed, pulled and cursed her solid American Staffordshire Terrier frame as he pulled her into the air ducts.  That done, he had taken a moment to recuperate after he closed the duct behind him.  Sonya had been worried that he had done irreparable harm to himself so she had licked him until he contorted himself into facing the correct way and began to crawl away.

* * *

The various scientists had retreated to their safe area, awaiting further instructions when Fitz heard a voice from the air duct.

“Dr. Simmons? I’m coming in, please don’t have your team electrocute me,” growled a deep voice.

“Agent Blake?”  one of the scientist asked.

“Yes,” Blake answered as he pushed at the grate until it popped off. “Status report?”

“Comms are down,” Fitz began before he started rattling off issues.  By the time, he had finished Blake had managed to pull himself together and had commandeered a table for his computers.  There was a small white terrier with a black face that crawled out of a laptop bag and a rather large pit bull that was stared at Felix as though waiting further instructions.

“Guard,” Felix tersely ordered and the two dogs went into alert mode.  “Agents, we’ve got a shit load of problems and you are the people that will be saving your fellow agents’ lives.  I need Eyes, and I need communications. Get them running, people. Ok, Gadget Boy, tell me what you have in the order of surveillance, communications and weaponry. ”  


* * *

 

Felix Blake through sheer force of caustic personality, verbal whippings and a heaping amount of obscenities managed to pull, poke and prod the science division into one cohesive team. Not they weren’t a team before, but Agent Blake was able to run roughshod over the strong divisional schisms between the sciences (as physics and biochem had never played nicely together as everyone knew that biochem required true finesse) with a sharp, “We’re fucking invaded by space aliens, asshole. Stick your PhD up your ass and get to work, or I’m kicking you out of here and you can deal with them by yourself.”

The Golden Retrievers and the various Dwarves were sent out to collect intel and communications with someone in the Comm Center, the Agent in Charge, a poor Level 5, was established. She resigned on the spot and Blake refused to accept it. Meanwhile, several personnel, those of the aquatic science divisions, were given work below their paygrade and educational level, as they were given specific Retrievers and Dwarves to follow as they guided SHIELD personnel through a series of corridors and air vents to avoid the alien invaders.  Fortunately, FitzSimmons were able to be scientifically productive as they created diversions and escapes for various personnel trapped by the invading aliens. (And those Cafeteria workers were literal Amazons what with their cutlery skills, iron skillets and the copious use of Molotov cocktails)

At one point, Felix Blake made contact with the carrier, conversed with someone and then placed both hands on the table.  For some reason Jemma was looking at Agent Blake at that moment and realized that he was struggling to compose himself. He stared at the monitor for a moment and then spoke, “I’ll talk to you later. If we survive this.”

No, no, no. She was being paranoid, Phil was fine. FINE. She just couldn’t sense him because of all the extraneous noise and distraction.  She tried to lie to herself, but the overwhelming fear was making her hands shake.

The two terriers began to growl, loudly, at the air duct, and Felix snapped back into command mode.

“They’re coming through the vents, people. I need them blocked, but I also need a way for the air to be recycled. Make it snappy, people. They’re bringing the war to us, people, and we will pay the ferryman!”

* * *

 

The battle continued for what seemed like days, but it was at most, an hour or so more. Felix Blake informed the scientists that they needed to confirm that all the Chitauri were dead, not to take any stupid chances and yes, tag and bag any weapons that they could find. He continued snapping orders and deputizing several Level 5s into overseeing what needed to be done even while he spoke to Director Fury.

Jemma Simmons sat on top of a lab table, mentally and physically exhausted, but still she concentrated on a liquid sample that was defying any chance at classification when Agent Blake appeared. He looked haggard and his eyes were red-rimmed.

“Dr. Fitz… is Dr. Fitz available?” His voice was quite soft and hesitant.  “I’d like him here for this conversation.”

“No, he’s being examined in medical as he was knocked unconscious,” Jemma explained.  In a fake attempt at being upbeat, she added, “Poor thing, he always ends up unconscious.”

“Is there anyone…” Blake stopped and slowly exhaled. “Do you have anyone… a friend? A coworker?”

She slid off the table. She felt her heart lurch, falter and skip a beat.  Her hand lost its grasp on the vial and it crashed to the floor. Perplexed, she stared at the aqua green liquid that pooled on the floor, as though her world was off-kilter, even as her heart began to regularly beat once more.

Futilely she shook her head as she refused to hear what Blake was about to tell her, even as her world shattered, “No, no, **_no_**. Phil is not dead.”

“Dr. Simmons, I must regretfully inform you,” Felix began but stopped as he needed to compose himself.  “… That Phil died. He took on Loki… I warned him about the Asgardians… and… he still took him on.”

“That sounds like Phil, always heroic,” she admitted, even as her heart refused to accept that Phil Coulson was dead. Not Phil of the easy smile and the gentle hands.

“Dr. Simmons, there’s more,” Agent Blake continued. “One of Chitauri Infantry Leviathans demolished your apartment building. It’s rubble, there’s nothing left. Do you have a place you can stay? If you don’t, I have a small room, it’s yours for as long as you need to get back on your feet?”

“That means Phil has lost all his Captain America memorabilia,” Jemma murmured. “He’ll be so upset.”

Felix Blake’s face twisted into an expression she couldn’t decipher. Instead of worrying about him, she hugged herself.

“He was so proud of his collection, especially those trading cards. They were near mint, with slight foxing.  I don’t how I’ll be able to get them replaced for him,” she admitted.  “I’ll have to get them replaced because… because… it took him forever to track down card number seven. I… I…. have to admit that I’m rather jealous of his man-crush on Steve Rogers.”

“Dr. Simmons. Do you understand what I’m telling you? Phil Coulson died on the helicarrier. Director Fury was there when they called it, and he assured me that it was quick and painless. Phil died almost immediately and his last thoughts were of you,” Felix explained.

She slapped him hard, and he recoiled from the blow.

“He isn’t dead,” she protested. “We were planning on starting a family. That’s the one thing I could give him that you never could. He’d never go back to you…because… he’s…. dead… and… ”

Jemma Simmons softly repeated, “Because Phil’s dead….”

To her surprise, Felix Blake roughly embraced her. It was an unexpected reminder that she wasn’t the only one that had loved (still loved?) Phil Coulson and that she wasn’t alone in grief. The compassionate gesture undid her completely, and she began to keen her grief even while Felix Blake spoke of his promise to Phil regarding her. 

 

_“And now that you're gone_   
_I can't cry hard enough_   
_No I can't cry hard enough_   
_For you to hear me now.”_

_The Williams Brothers_

 

 

 


	12. Into the Fire

_"Into The Fire" - BRUCE_

_The sky was falling and streaked with blood_  
I heard you calling me then you disappeared into the dust  
Up the stairs, into the fire  
Up the stairs, into the fire  
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher  
Somewhere up the stairs into the fire.

* * *

 

 

“Dr. Simmons, it’ll be a little bit before I can leave as I need to talk to Fury.  Do you have a change of clothes here?” Agent Blake asked.

She shook her head, and he took her by her forearm even as he assured her that he would find her something to wear. She followed him, as really what else could she do? Phil was dead…. **_DEAD_** …. And Fitz was in Medical, which was filled to the brim with the wounded, so she couldn’t stay there. She was adrift, alone and… better to be with a man that hated her (Justifiably) than be by herself. Because Blake would verbally whip her and scourge her soul… and she wanted … no… needed… the pain to overwhelm her completely, so she would drown in despair. Really a bit overdramatic, she thought, but that thought was far better than this… ache of nothingness.

Blake took the steps and brought her to a small office in a roundabout way. She realized only after she arrived in the office, that there were whole parts of the once proud building that were impassable due to the alien invasion. The unfamiliar office in which she was deposited consisted of a great many dark monitors and a single chair.  While she stared, uncomprehending at her surroundings, Agent Blake took her by her forearms and gently pushed her into the chair.

“Stay here,” he requested.  “Sonya and Nekko will stay with you.”

She nodded her head, as Agent Blake seemed to need a response.  Meanwhile, the big Staffie put her head in Jemma’s lap and Jemma began to stroke her.  It was… comforting…

“Be back. Don’t go,” Agent Blake repeated.

She nodded.

* * *

 

After Agent Blake left, Jemma decided to sit on the floor. She curled into herself, and permitted herself to cry once more, as the overwhelming absence of where Phil had once been, now _hurt_.  The two dogs decided to crowd around her and they began licking her face while she cried herself to sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep when Blake returned.  Long enough for Nekko to fall asleep in her lap and for Sonya to be snoring next to her.

“Dr. Simmons? Director Fury would like to talk to you,” Agent Blake requested.  “I also guessed at your size, so I have something you can wear when you wash that outfit.”

As she tried to stand, Blake pulled her to her feet and she looked upon the weary, grieving face of Director Fury.  “Dr. Simmons,” he quietly stated. “I understand that you will be staying with Agent Blake until you get back on your feet. If there anything you need, that Felix can’t assist you with, you will inform me.”

“I want Phil to be alive, that this is all a horrible, horrible mistake,” she quietly stated. She was determined not to cry in front of Fury, that she would be strong, and resolute.  “But I doubt even you can do that.”

Fury blanched, before he nodded.

“Agent Blake,” Fury commanded and Blake left the two of them alone.  Director Fury took her hands and he carefully squeezed them.  “Phil and I go way back.  I know you and Agent Blake have had… problems… but … I know… Phil would be delighted to know that you two … are supporting each other.”

Jemma nodded her head, as really, what could be said?

“He is a very good man,” Fury quietly stated. “He and Phil were more alike than they were different.  Phil is… was… personable which Felix is more straight-forward but really, both are good men.  Here’s my personal contact information, please call me if there is anything I can do.”

She nodded.

But vowed never to call.

* * *

 

By the time Blake returned back to his office, Blake had collected a dozen Agents or so that had nowhere to stay.  Most of them were senior agents, but there were a few lower support staff members that looked shell-shocked, plus Jemma and the two dogs. They met outside his office and he announced what that plan was.

“It’s four blocks to my apartment,” Felix explained. “It’s chaotic out there, so two tight squares, one external, one internal. Dogs will be in the internal square. Doctor Simmons? You’ll hold their leashes.”

Chaotic wasn’t the word for it. Massive devastation was closer to the truth, what with the missing parts of the familiar skyline, the loud sounds, not the everyday sounds of an active city but the sounds of trauma and terror….   and the smoke…  There was looting… LOOTING… in the stores and Jemma realized that the Agents wanted nothing more than to put everything right, but… they were weary and outnumbered.   Felix stopped at a grocery store where the owner and what was probably his family stood guard with a barricade of fully loaded shot guns.

“I need to buy food and supplies,” Felix informed the store owner. “I will pay but these people with me have **_nothing_**. Can we arrange for something? I have cash and I understand you won’t be able to make change.”

The store owner nodded his head, and said, “Only one of you can come in. However, you hand me the money first. I’m sorry but I got robbed last week. And they’re acting like animals right now. ANIMALS.”

“Understood, but how about this? I give you the money, I give you a list. Your family bags and boxes it. Hands it out to my people?” Felix asked. “While we’re here, we’ll protect your store? As we’re armed.”

It was a subtle warning to the shop owner not to take his money without giving him the supplies.

* * *

 

Felix discussed the list of needed supplies with Shaw and Jacobson, and then he asked Jemma for her input.  She reviewed the list and then she realized that one of the men had written down “female supplies… - ask Dr. Simmons”.  The line was listed above Flash lights, Batteries (D, AA), Dog Food, TYLENOL.

On one hand. MEN, but on the other, at least they had thought about it.

“You need to write down what four women may need in the next few weeks,” Felix informed her.  “Then double it, as I’m sure the news that Hotel de Blake is open is spreading so I’m anticipating a few more senior agents will be residing there shortly.”

* * *

The bill was tallied, Felix muttering darkly about the illegality of price gouging, but still he paid.  The merchandise was distributed amongst the personnel and they continued on to his apartment.  His apartment was located on the third floor of a pre-war brownstone and he stopped at the second floor during their walkup. He knocked on the door and shouted, “Sra. Feliciano. Es Felix, su vecino. ¿Estás en casa? Compré comida para ti. Por favor, abra la puerta.”

**_Mrs. Feliciano. It’s your neighbor, Felix. Are you ok? I bought some things for you. Please, open your door._ **

The door opened slightly and a slight elderly woman peered out.

“¿Es el rapto?” she asked. **_Is it the rapture?_**

“No, no era el rapto. Si lo fuera, usted estaría usando alas. Peor que eso, me temo. Fue extraños procedentes del espacio. Han ido a casa porque no podían derrotar a la ciudad de Nueva York,” Felix explained.

**_No, not the rapture. If it were, you would be wearing wings. It’s  worse than that, I'm afraid. It was space aliens. They have gone home because they could not defeat New York City._ **

 She opened the door and he stepped in with two bags.  Shaw motioned for the team to continue up the steps to the third floor.

“Seriously, his Spanish is horrible,” Jacobson quipped as he opened the door to Felix’s apartment. “Shit, this is **_small_**.”

“One bedroom with a den, one and half baths, but it is what it is. Least he’s willing to share,” Shaw stated. “Let’s put the supplies away. Inventory everything and Jacobson and I will figure out how to maximize the living space. Felix will assign the quarters.”

* * *

 

After butchering Spanish for several minutes with his elderly neighbor, Felix arrived to discover that he had picked up another roommate; the recently acquired supplies were being inventoried and distributed, his furniture was being rearranged, chores were being distributed and bathrooms assigned.  All in all, Shaw and Jacobson were running the ops as the consummate professionals they were.

“Agents Lopez, Gallagher and Kaur?  You three ladies are getting the den,” he decided. “Come with me. It’s tight, but there’s a futon. Pillows and sheets are in the closet, so feel free to set it up as you see fit, Agents.”

He didn’t know the three of them at all, as they were administrative support staff but he had witnessed women, led by Lopez, take down a squad of Chitauri warriors with a can of hairspray and a cigarette lighter.  **_Truly_** impressive. When he realized that they were among the homeless, he figured he could offer them a space as he did have a tendency to pick up interesting strays.

“Agent Simmons? Come with me,” he requested.  “You’re getting the smallest space, but it’s private.”

The scientist seemed on the verge of physical collapse, so he figured get her settled and hopefully she’d sleep.

“It’s the walk-in closet,” he explained as he entered his bedroom. “There’s a chair and a cocktail ottoman in there, so you should be able to get some sleep.  Really, I don’t particularly need a closet this size which is why I put a chair in here, but when you have a Staffie as a pet, you take what apartments you can afford.”

She nodded and he handed her a bag.

“You can change into this. I asked Lopez to wash your clothes as she asked to wash her group’s clothes as they only have what they’re wearing plus what I acquired. I figured you don’t want me to accidentally starch your delicates.”

Jemma nodded once.

“You look exhausted. Get some sleep, Doctor Simmons,” Felix requested.  “Remember, you’re off duty for the next week.”

“Agent Blake,” she requested as he turned to leave her. He stopped and faced her. “Will you… help me organize Phil’s funeral?”

She needed it to be perfect, and really Felix Blake was the person that knew Phil Coulson best.

Blake stared at her, and nodded his head once. “Sonya might slip in here to sleep as she doesn’t like crowds.  Be careful where you step when you wake.”

* * *

 

_She was dancing with Phil and he was smiling at her with that warm smile of his which made her heart sing.  For some reason, her mind was saying that this was wrong, that Phil shouldn’t be in her dreams, but her heart was full of happiness._

_“Hey,” he said.  “You and Felix are actually getting along. Very happy to see that, though I think I would have preferred if that miracle hadn’t required an alien invasion to accomplish it.”_

_He twirled her and then dipped her as she playfully shrieked. He brought her back up to her feet and he smiled once more at her. “Promise me that you’ll keep an eye on him.”_

_“What will you do if I promise?” she cooed. “He’s a Level Seven and doesn’t really need me to babysit him. Make it worth my while, Agent Coulson.”_

_Phil whispered in her ear. It was a very naughty promise and she giggled._

_“Ok, ok, ok,” she happily agreed._

When Jemma woke, she realized anew the truth of the matter, that Phil was dead.  And not even kisses from a Staffie named Sonya could cause her tears to cease. After several long, sleepless hours, Jemma finally convinced herself to change into a pitbull rescue t-shirt and her pants from the previous day. Hopefully, Agent Blake had managed to locate some sort of female clothing as while he had tried to provide everything for his house guests, there was a **_serious_** lack of female clothing in his apartment.  She walked out into a literal personnel minefield, as there were Agents strewn all over the place, attempting to sleep. There was … fifteen? In the living room? Felix Blake was sitting at his breakfast nook and Agent Lopez was next to him. He was tapping at his tablet and then he stopped.

They were having a very quiet conversation but Jemma Simmons was quite skilled at lip reading thanks to years spent dealing with the noise of the chemistry hoods.

“I’ll try to contact your parents to let them know that you’re alive,” Felix promised.  “There’s a lot of traffic but not enough bandwidth but I’ll see if I can piggyback it on to another message. On a serious note, why are you hiding in Administration? That was pretty bad ass with the hairspray and the lighter.  Chitauri Flambé is destined to be a classic taught to generations upon generations of Baby Agents.”

“My brother died in Afghanistan, so my parents...,” she ceased talking and shook her head.

“I understand, and I’ll really do my best to get this message to them. Now Agent Lopez, you and I have to try and feed twenty people plus in a kitchen best meant for two.  You up to the challenge, Agent?”

“Yes, Sir!” she saluted and Felix snorted. “I think we best start the coffee, Sir.”

“A woman after my own heart. Are you bonded?” Felix gently teased.

“I think I met him yesterday,” Lopez admitted. “I’m not sure. I mean, the first time you meet your Soul Mate… it’s not supposed to be in the middle of a firefight and the first time he meets you, he quotes a line from a movie.”

She rubbed her arm and Blake turned her wrist over to read, “I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

Blake snorted his disbelief, and leaned towards the young agent. He whispered, “SHAW? He seemed a little distracted after he met you.”

She nodded.

“I think it’s warm enough for you two to have breakfast on the balcony,” Felix suggested. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you two some privacy. Maybe you two can take the dogs for a run, so you can have some time together. I understand that the first few days are critical for a healthy bond. Shaw’s a good guy. He’ll treat you well, once he stops crowing about the Chitauri Flambé.”

Jemma made a little noise, not too much but enough to inform the two Agents that she was in the room. She rubbed her eyes, pretending to be oblivious to their conversation, and then she carefully sidestepped her way to them.

“Dr. Simmons, we’re making breakfast. Can you cook?” Felix asked her.

She nodded.

“Wonderful. Toast, bacon, eggs. Coffee.  Let’s get started.”

* * *

 

The twenty five agents (seriously, twenty five of them in a nine hundred foot apartment complete with two dogs though Shaw and Lopez had been ordered to dine on the balcony by Felix Blake) were having a subdued breakfast when someone aggressively  pounded on the door.   The mood went from subdued to Alarmed and Armed with Guns in .128325 seconds, Jemma realized.

“TONY!” a female voice protested and Felix groaned as he knew that voice.   He almost would have preferred another alien invasion than deal with THAT NUT.

“Stark?” Jacobson asked.

“Sounds like Potts,” agreed Felix. He went to the door, peered through the spy hole and asked, “Who is it?”

“The Avengers,” announced Tony.  “For those that don’t know, we’re an up and coming boy band who saves the world in our spare time. OW! With a very hot female lead. OW! Seriously, where did you get the Taser?”

“Sounds like Agent Romanov and Pepper Potts aren’t happy with Stark,” Jacobson explained to the confused crowd. “Someone just armed a Taser.”

“What do you want, Stark?”  Felix asked even as he wished that he taken a preemptive Tylenol that morning.

“We wanted to pay our respects to Dr. Simmons,” another male voice stated.

“Rogers?” Felix Blake groaned. “Who else is out there?”

“Can’t you just let us in? I mean, this hallway while… pleasantly quaint… is rather… small and the airflow is rather limited. Banner is looking a little green. It’s not from the shawarma, is it?”

Felix opened the door, and motioned for them to come in.  The apartment, already long past Fire Code Violating Crowded, became noticeably smaller when The Avengers entered.   Tony Stark. Natasha Romanov. Clint Barton. Bruce Banner.  Steve Rogers. Thor, sans Hammer, Felix thanked the various Gods because… really… he lived in a small apartment and that Hammer was classified as a weapon of mass destruction.  Virginia “Pepper” Potts took one look at the swarming mass of humanity in Blake’s apartment and began dialing on her phone. Naturally, Felix thought. She had cell service. 

Sometimes he regretted going into Civil Service, as opposed to the Private Sector.

“Dr. Simmons?” Felix requested with as much politeness as he could manage. “There are people and Tony Stark here to see you.”

He ignored Tony Stark’s look of hurt, but Steve Roger’s amusement was wonderful.

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons quickly realized that while the Avengers were there to pay their respects, a guilt-stricken Tony Stark had decided that he was the one to plan Phil’s funeral.  It would be big, it would be bold, it would be a celebration of his life (she just knew that there would be an open bar, a large stadium style movie screen for speeches by politicians that had hid their head in their asses while Phil died, and probably Captain America-WII era dancers to boot) and she panicked when she realized that her escort to the funeral would be …. STEVE ROGERS.  A very earnest and sincere Steve Rogers who apologized profusely for not signing Phil’s Captain America trading cards.

Plus it seemed that she had been adopted as a cause by the Avengers as she now had a floor in the Avengers Towers, once it was made safe for occupation.

She latched onto Felix’s arm, who hadn’t run for the hills… or at least the bedroom as that was the spot furthest away from where she was, and she squeezed hard.

“No….,” she whispered, as she was thisclose to having a breakdown. “No, no, no, no. Phil wouldn’t want this…”

Blake rallied to her defense.

“Mr. Stark, we thank you for your offer of assistance, but Dr. Simmons regretfully wishes to decline.  She will plan Phil’s funeral in the manner of which he would approve, as opposed to turning it into a Star - Spangled Banner cluster fuck circle jerk spectacular. Now, please get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Phil Coulson had long expressed to Felix his sincerest admiration on how well Pepper Potts managed Tony.  Felix was at last able to appreciate the Force known as Pepper Pots first hand. Pepper quickly took control of the situation and had all the male Avengers leave, leaving just her and the Black Widow plus twenty four displaced SHIELD Agents, Felix Blake and two dogs in the increasingly claustrophobic apartment.  Though the newly bonded Lopez and Shaw were no longer alone on their balcony as the wiser among the Agents had wished to escape the looming cataclysm by any possible means.

“Naturally, you will be the one to make all decisions. However, if you need any help, financial or otherwise, please reach out to me. I considered Phil a friend, and will do anything for you,” Pepper admitted. “Tony means well, but he’s….”

“Tony….” was the Black Window’s succinct comment.

“I don’t need anything,” murmured Jemma.

“Actually, I disagree. I have five female agents here who have literally have only the clothes on their backs.  They need clothes, Ms. Potts,” Blake inserted.  “I also see that you have cell coverage. I have an agent here who desperately needs to contact her parents to let them know that their only living child hasn’t died.”

“I’m assuming that just about everyone here needs clothes?” Pepper asked. “I’m seeing a great many pit bull rescue shirts.”

Felix nodded.

“Give me their sizes and I promise you they will have clothes by this evening,” promised Pepper. She handed her phone to Felix and added, “I’m sure that agent you mentioned isn’t the only one that needs to call a loved one.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

By the time Phil’s funeral was finally held, several weeks after his death, Jemma Simmons was physically and emotionally exhausted. She was unable to sleep at night as she dreamed horrible, horrible dreams where a scalped Phil was tortured even as he begged unseen personnel to be permitted to die. In her horrific nightmares, Phil screamed and screamed until his voice broke, and then he continued to mouth, “Let me die. Let me die.”

On the day of the funeral, Jemma was escorted to the funeral.  He had suggested Nick Fury, perhaps Leo Fitz, but she had latched onto him as the only acceptable escort and she refused to change her mind.  He had rapidly assumed the role of a secure anchor as her life turned into an emotional maelstrom. Though it was almost comical as she still called him Agent Blake while he insisted on calling her Dr. Simmons while he henpecked her for not eating the lunch he had made just for her.

After the last visitor had left the funeral, and the two of them at last returned back to Blake’s apartment, which now housed just the occasional house guest besides them and the two dogs. It was then that Jemma Simmons’ body decided that it had taken enough physical abuse, thank you very much.  It was long past time for a reboot of Jemma Simmons. She swooned into a startled Felix’s embrace and fortunately, he was able to lower her to the floor without dropping her.

_“Hey,” Phil softly stated. He was sitting next to Jemma’s hospital bed. “You’re not taking care of yourself, Jemma. You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping. You need to take better care of yourself, especially now. Haven’t you wondered why your Soul Mark hasn’t faded?”_

_Phil’s handwriting had stayed as dark as it had ever been, which was a source of comfort for Jemma. It was though Phil was still here with her._

_“I’m trying to hold it together but…” Jemma wept. “Those dreams I have with you begging to die.”_

_“Shh… Part of me is still here with you, Jemma. Remember that,” a smiling Phil whispered as he leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Remember the happy times, Jemma.”_

When Jemma Simmons regain consciousness, she realized that Felix Blake was sitting next to her bedside.  He looked… rumpled…and grumpy… and alarmed at his dereliction of duty. Really, his promise to Phil to keep an eye on Jemma Simmons probably meant that she wasn’t to pass out on him.  Next time, if she decided to repeat the experience, she would try to be less of a bother and swoon in her office.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Don’t do that again. Next time, I may not be able to catch you. Doc did a bunch of tests, asked me questions to which I didn’t know the answers, so she said that she’ll have to ask you when you woke. I told her how I can’t get you to eat, and that you’re surviving on miso soup and egg drop soup and crackers these days.”

“Thank you for catching me,” Jemma whispered.  She reached for his hand and squeezed it. They will still holding hands when the doctor announced she was entering the ward.

“Dr. Simmons, I’m Dr. Greenbaum,” the short brunette informed her. “First and foremost, you’re exhausted and dehydrated. We’re giving you some fluids to help your electrolytes. Also, we’ve got some interesting test results on you, and Agent Blake wasn’t able to answer the necessary questions.”

“There is no way I’d know the answer to those questions,” protested Felix.  “No way in hell.”

“Ask away,” Jemma offered. “No, don’t you leave, Agent Blake. I don’t want to be alone.”

“When was your LMP?”

Jemma closed her eyes, recalled the last time she had her period and today’s date. “Forty days ago. I’ve been under a great deal of stress, so I didn’t think it was that abnormal that I missed a month. Used to happen to me every so often when I was at the Academy.”

“Dr. Simmons…the reason why you skipped your period is because you’re pregnant,” the doctor began, and then paused to let Jemma Simmons digest the news. “If you’re correct about your LMP, your human chorionic gonadotropin level is a little high for the baby’s gestational age.”

“What does that mean?” Felix asked. “Is there a problem with the baby?”

“How high?” Simmons squeaked, as she knew what it could mean.  However it wasn’t time to panic, not until she heard the level.

“80,000.”

_**TIME TO PANIC.** _

“Bugger,” was Simmon’s unhelpful response. “Bugger, bugger, bugger.”

“Can someone explain to me what’s happening? Or what happened?” Felix requested.

“When a women’s human chorionic gonadotropin is significantly higher than the norm for the gestational age, it could mean that she might be having more than one baby,” Dr. Greenbaum explained.

“TWINS?” Felix asked.

“Maybe,” Dr. Greenbaum admitted. “But we need to run some tests to further confirm.”

“Twins,” Felix softly repeated. “ ** _Twins_**.”

 

 _May your strength give us strength_  
May your faith give us faith  
May your hope give us hope  
May your love give us love


	13. Dear Friends

_So dear friends your love has gone_  
Only tears to dwell upon  
I dare not say as the wind must blow  
So a love is lost, a love is won

_DEAR FRIENDS - QUEEN_

* * *

 

 

Felix Blake, having never been part of the ‘We’re so madly in love, let’s make a baby’ mania, was obviously missing something VITAL about the HCG level. He pondered that thought as he paid Simmons’s emergency department copay, intently listened to the instructions given to Dr. Simmons by Greenbaum and debated why Simmons wasn’t happier. After all, Dr. Simmons had informed him that she and Phil had wanted babies, (a comment which a grieving Simmons had use to lash out at him and remind him that he could never do with Phil) so… why was she mumbling 80,000 over and over again? He took his tablet, typed in a query and read for a bit. Nope, still not any closer to understanding.

He also started a list of things he needed to do. 

Nicotine patches for Felix Blake. Yes, he needed to stop smoking. He was down to less than a half-pack a day as they were so damn expensive, but… he needed to cease.

New apartment with more bedrooms. It would prove difficult and pricy on that alone, but adding Sonya, the Staffie?  Surcharge, but he would never abandon Sonya because she was family. So he better start now because it would be a tough search.  Some might say that he was being too proactive, but with Simmons pregnant (with twins? PHIL’S TWINS!) she really shouldn’t live on her own.

Give his king sized bed with the Stern and Foster mattress to Simmons and take the futon for his own. His back was already protesting, but she’d need something better than the futon soon.  New sheets also, even though he hadn’t broken them in with anyone.

Clothes shopping. She’d need new clothes, but not tomorrow, right?

“So tomorrow, we need to make appointments with an obstetrician, and a nutritionist,” he confirmed with Greenbaum. He had the feeling that Simmons would be spunky (difficult) and he needed all the strategic advantages that he could muster.  “For tonight, what should I feed her?”

He ignored Dr. Simmons’ sputtered protests, however he had seen her BMI on her paperwork, and she was in the distinctively “Underweight” category.

“Steak? Stuff a milkshake or three down her throat?” He asked. “It’s obvious that the miso soup diet isn’t working.”

The doctor made a suggestion about lean protein, fresh vegetables, etc and Felix nodded his head.   “I know just the spot. I’ll take her there.”

* * *

Simmons was remarkably quiet on the way to the restaurant.  She finally spoke, “I’m really not hungry, Agent Blake, so can we just forget about dinner?”

“You must eat, Dr. Simmons, as there is someone depending on you to properly eat. That means, no more skipping meals, no more miso soup only lunches.”

“Someones,” she stressed and then she mumbled, “With that HCG level, it might be triplets.”

“THREE?” Blake protested. His attempt at neatly parallel parking was successful though with his horrified countenance it appeared as though he had hit a curb, the fire hydrant, two parked police cars and a pit bull puppy. “Where would you put them? You’re so petite, that I worry that you’ll have problems with two babies.”

“Agent Blake, don’t you think I know that?” she protested.   Felix noticed that there was the slightest hint of hysteria in her tone, so he wrote a mental sticky note, ‘DO NOT MENTION 80,000!’ and slapped it on his eyeballs.  “And seriously, why do you call me Doctor Simmons?”

“You call me Agent Blake,” he tersely reminded her of that basic truth.  “You’ve never given me permission to call you Jemma.”

“Do you really need my permission?” she asked. “I’m currently residing in your den so maybe a less formal mode of address is permitted in our off hours. By the way, I will start paying rent.”

“We didn’t get off to a good start. We were also never formally introduced,” he reminded her.  “I also will not accept payment from you. Phil asked me to keep an eye out for you, I agreed, and at no time did Phil tell me that I was to charge you for my assistance.”

“Did Phil ask you to pay my copayment?” Jemma asked. “Pay my bills?”

“You’ll pay me back when they get your finances resolved.  Right now, you don’t have checks, your credit cards are being reissued. Just because an alien with daddy issues decided to take his anger out on NYC does not mean you ruin your credit rating, Dr. Simmons.”

For a wonder, Jemma Simmons smiled for the first time in far too long.  It’s a brief flash of light before it was extinguished by exhaustion, by worry and fear. She extended her hand out to him and stated, “Hello, I’m Jemma. You are?”

He clasped her hand with his and shook it. “Felix Blake. Please call me Felix, and the pleasure is mine.”

* * *

 

Felix Blake escorted her into the restaurant, and they were quickly seated in a small table in the corner. He held out the chair for her and was just… a gentleman though when she demurred that she wasn’t hungry and that she only wished a small salad, he ran roughshod over her.

“She’ll have this,” he stated while he pointed at the menu. “With this side, and that one. Thank you. If possible, I’d like this, this and that ordered as take out, so she’ll have lunch tomorrow. Actually make it two, so I don’t have to worry about her coworker eating hers.”

“Excellent choices, sir,” the waiter stated.

Before Jemma could protest, Felix just blinked at her. Once, twice… and she sighed.

“I’d like to go with you to the doctor’s tomorrow,” he stated.  While she digested that, he just clasped his hands in front of his and waited for her response.

“I was thinking of asking Fitz,” she finally admitted.

Felix Blake desperately wished that he could order a shot or three, but really, since Simmons… Jemma couldn’t drink, it would be rude to imbibe in front of her.

“Dr. Fitz is bonded to Mack, is he not?”  Felix asked.  “I’m sure he will do the best he can for you, but in all honesty, he won’t be able to commit to you as fully as you need right now. I’m not saying that Mack wouldn’t wish to help you just as much as Dr. Fitz will, but… I know from firsthand experience, bonding is all encompassing, and well-meant promises spoken in haste at the beginning often tatter and tear. I’m SoulLess, I won’t abandon you because a Bond Activation. Not only am I SoulLess I am also a demisexual demiromantic which means that the commitment I make to you will not be thrown aside for a cheap escapade in an alley. Don’t mistakenly believe that I’m asexual. I’m not.”

The appetizers arrived then and Jemma looked at the tofu and peanuts in pineapple boat appetizer for a moment.

“I just don’t know why you’re helping me,” she admitted. “A promise to Phil… but you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” Felix tiredly protested. “You don’t get it. Phil leaving for his Bond Mate…. It wasn’t the first time I’ve been on the wrong side of a Bond Activation. It’s like a deaf man, who attends a concert. He can’t fully experience it, he can’t hear it but he sees the cellos, sees the horns. He can feel the vibrations, see how the music affects other people, and he leaves the concert hall, broken hearted, after he realizes that he’ll never be able to experience it.  So that person can either go on a rampage, or he can lick his wounds.  He’ll vow to never attend another concert, but one day, when he’s reading a book, the author will write about the sounds of the wind in the trees, or the soft sigh of a lover… and he realizes anew… what he doesn’t have and he finds himself back at the concert hall. Leaving Phil like I did, was painful, but was for the best, else he’d would have tried to juggle both of us. It would have been ugly and painful. Most importantly, I would have lost in the end.”

She then looked at him, with big Bambi eyes, and he motioned at the appetizer

“Eat, you need the protein,” he ordered. “Once we talk to the nutritionist tomorrow, we’ll figure out how much protein you need.”

* * *

 

As he anticipated, Jemma didn’t want to take his bed. She protested, she mentioned his bad back and how for now, the futon was just fine. He just stared at her, until she stopped talking.

“I’ll go change,” she meekly agreed.

* * *

 

It was a very comfortable bed, Jemma realized. Soft, fluffy but enough support so she’d be comfortable. Blake… Felix had insisted on acquiring new sheets… but actually, she wouldn’t have minded the old sheets, because she realized that Felix wore a very similar, if not the same cologne that Phil did.  Had.

She crawled in the bed and promptly fell into a deep sleep as she was quite exhausted.

_She was sitting in a restaurant, and she was quite roundly pregnant, really beyond huge, and Phil was sitting across the table from her. He was resting his head on his hand and he was smiling._

_“It was the day I nearly missed the plane to New Mexico,” he informed her. “Your commando raid. I thought you were the sexiest thing ever that day, but that was before now. Jemma, you’re glorious. I’d be chasing you around the bedroom while you tried to beat me off with a stick. Or the night night gun.”_

_He smiled a rather lecherous grin and then he winked at her._

_“I promised you that part of me was still with you. Several parts,” he reminded her._

_“How many parts?” she asked. Plaintively, as she was really quite enormous. It brought back all her old insecurities about her weight from her preteen years. She had been far smarter than her peers, and a bit pudgy so the mean girls had mercilessly bullied her._

_“You’ll find out tomorrow. If I tell you now, you’ll probably be mad at me, though you’re the one that commando’d me,” he reminded her in a very prim tone.  “Take Felix up on his offer to help you through this.  I’ll worry less about you if you let Felix help.”_

_“He’s already graphing my weight,” Jemma protested. “Bar graph charting for the next seven months, Phil!”_

_“Scatter plot graph actually,” Phil chuckled. “Plus creating a program to determine your daily nutritional intake compared to what the nutritionist will recommend. He’s on his way back to the apartment after buying prenatal vitamins. Let him Felix you horribly for the next seven months. You’ll have healthy babies thanks to Felix, I promise.”_

_“Promise?” Jemma whispered._

_“Promise. Now Jemma, please remember that I love you. You made me so happy these last few months, and I need you to do something for me, please.” Phil’s smile faded and he hunched over his meal. “Promise me. You have to give someone a message.”_

_“Phil?” Jemma asked, even as blood began to drip from Phil’s mouth. His skin was ashen, and in the middle of his chest, there was a blood stain that was steadily spreading._

_“Tell Nick that I want to die. Tell him I don’t approve of what he’s doing. Tell him that I’m begging him to stop it,” Phil requested even as a waiter…. LOKI… stabbed him in the back with the scepter. “Tell him… he’s **hurting** me.”_

She woke, screaming and weeping. To her surprise, Felix Blake was sitting on the bed, holding her.

“You were having a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake you,” he explained.  “I really tried.”

 

 _Go to sleep and dream again_  
Soon your hopes will rise  
And then from all this gloom  
Life can start anew  
And there'll be no crying soon

_DEAR FRIENDS - QUEEN_


	14. Shine on You Crazy Diamond

_Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun._   
_Shine on you crazy diamond._   
_Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky._   
_Shine on you crazy diamond._

_Shine on You Crazy Diamond – Pink Floyd_

Jemma Simmons wept uncontrollably even while an ill prepared, emotionally constipated Felix struggled to console her by mumbling soft words of comfort. After her last tear had been shed, and she felt utterly cored, Felix still held her. She possessed the horrible headache that only comes after a horrible crying jab, so she half-closed her eyes and rested her head on his bare chest. Instead of talking, she focused on the very ornate ‘I know you’ Soul Mark that was emblazoned across his chest.  The faux Soul Mark that had meant so much to Felix because **_Phil_** had given it to him.

 _I know you, those were the first words that Phil ever said to you.  They were also the first words I ever spoke to you,_ she thought. _However it was more of an_ ‘ _I know you’?  Funny, how that ‘y’ looks like Phil’s   ‘y’, that ‘ou’ looks like mine. And that capital ‘I’ …_

“I dreamed of him,” she admitted when she was close to sleep again. There was something about Felix, possibly how the smell of his cologne was similar to Phil’s but not, that had her slipping into a doze. Or perhaps it was because she was lying next to a warm body and she could close her eyes…. Pretend it was Phil.

“And?” he prompted as he covered her with the blanket.

“He knew about the babies,” she softly admitted.

“ ** _Babies_**? Think Phil could wait until you had the sonogram? Did he had inside information on how many?”

“He refused to tell me,” she continued which earned her a chuckle.

“Was he passing our cigars? Buying Captain America onesies? I’m sure he was proud,” rumbled Felix.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Very proud as I was quite huge.”

Felix snorted a laugh.

“It sounds like a wonderful dream, then what caused you to scream?” asked Felix.

“I have had dreams, since he died, where he is alive, but in horrible, horrible pain.  In this dream, he begged me to tell Nick to stop hurting him.”

Felix squeezed her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“You don’t believe that he’s alive, do you? Because I **_saw_** Phil’s body after he died as they needed someone to identify him.  There is no doubt in my mind that Phil is dead. As for thinking that he’s giving you messages for Nick. I think that you’re under a great deal of emotional and physical stress right now, so your subconscious is acting out. It’s asking the uncaring universe, in this case, represented by Nick Fury, to stop.”

“I know,” she murmured even as she gratefully fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, which left Felix Blake in the awkward position of trying to extricate himself without waking her. When Sony and Nekko decided to join them in bed, as they thought there was a slumber party that they had to invade, Blake just gave up.

 It wasn’t as though he’d seduce Simmons.

* * *

 

The next morning, Jemma found herself served a hearty breakfast (really, she normally had just tea for breakfast, but it looked as though Felix had slaughtered and then prepared the fattened calf for her).  “I can’t eat all that,” she protested even as she looked at Felix’s much more manageable portion.

He tapped away at his tablet, and shook his head, “Doctor’s orders. Twenty five grams of protein in that monstrosity, so eat. Do not give any to Sonya as it will upset her stomach.”

“How about Nekko? Or Nikko?”  She hopefully asked, as the Japanese terrier looked up at her with begging eyes.

“No, to Nekko, and no to Nikko.  It’s Nekko with an E, though I found him at Nikko. Since Nikko is a shrine, I changed it slightly, however Phil insisted on calling him Nikko. Speaking of which; Nekko, stop it,” Felix growled. “No begging.”

Blake’s phone rang and he grabbed it. When Jemma attempted to switch plates, he snapped his fingers at her and growled. Chastened, she shrugged her shoulders in apology and picked up a fork.   For her good behavior, Felix approvingly smiled at her which made him look years younger.

“Morning, Sitwell. What’s the problem?” Felix asked in the tone of one who anticipated bad news during breakfast as a matter of course.

Long pause.

“No, I don’t have room for any more strays in my life.  And there’s nothing you could say to me that would make me change my mind…. Really?.... One word. Tell me that one word that would change my mind. One second, eat what’s on your plate, young lady. Now back to you, so what’s the magic word, Sitwell? And it ain’t please.”

Jemma took a tentative bite, realized that the scramble was surprisingly delicious, and that she was actually ravenous.

Another long pause on Felix’s end of the conversation.

Then Blake sighed.

“You found your Hacktavist, eh? How old is our little Rising Tide... Little young there, Jasper…  Yes, she’s about Simmons’ age… hmm… Let me vet her first and then perhaps we’ll introduce the two of them. I don’t want Simmons picking up any bad habits from Hacker Girl…  I’m not sure how long Simmons will be staying here, it’s completely up to her… Yes…  I am an idiot… but … I can always refuse your stray as my new assistant, so shut up. Does she know who you are?”

Long period of silence and then Felix stated, “Bring her to my office at nine. Goodbye, Jasper.”

He rubbed his temples after the phone call.

“Sitwell still doesn’t care for me living here, does he?” Simmons asked.

“You shot him with the night night gun during an inservice, Simmons.  Gave him a migraine that had him flat on his back for days, begging for death…” Felix paused when he realized how inappropriate that comment had been considering her dreams about Phil. “It’s not because you and Phil were Bonded and he’s loyal to me. It’s because of the night night gun incident. Barton mocked him for weeks about it. Victoria Hand, on the other hand…”

He exhaled slowly.

“Informed me that I have a pathological need to be a doormat.  Speaking of doormats, it’s time for work. Remember, I packed you salt free pumpkin seeds for a snack, plus a yogurt. There’s enough lunch for you and for Dr. Fitz.” 

“Seriously,” Jemma protested. “I think you’re not a doormat, but you’re mother henning me.”

Felix turned serious and pointed his index finger at her.

“You physically collapsed as you weren’t taking care of yourself. Since Phil is not here, I am doing what he would have. Must I remind you that he requested me to do so?” Felix asked. “I promised him and you should know by now, that Felix Blake is not one to break a promise.”

“No, you’re not,” Jemma softly admitted, as she realized that even with this quasi-truce between them, Felix Blake’s emotional scars from Phil hadn’t healed. “I’ll meet you at your office so we can go Medical together?”

“Do you want me to go?” he asked. “Honestly?”

“Right now, you’re the only one who knows that I’m pregnant,” she reminded him.  “I need someone with me… please… Especially if decisions have to made. Please. I’ll tell Fitz after we see the doctor today.”

* * *

Nick Fury’s one good eye was scanned, his retina confirmed and then he entered into the Guest House. Lesser mortals fled as he stormed down the all too familiar hallway.

“How is he?” he asked an emotionless medic who stood as sentry to the place he wished to visit.  A quick head shake was enough for Fury, so he exhaled. “I’ll go see him.”

The shell of the man that once was Phil Coulson was doing slightly better, Nick thought. A clean shaven Coulson was could now sit upright in a chair, thanks to a posey vest. His shaved head’s hairline was slowly filling in, but his eyes were staring at a horizon that only he could see. Sometime during his rounds of experimental surgeries, Phil Coulson had hit The Wall, that spot where a strong man couldn’t face another minute of agonizing pain. He had faced the prospect of still more pain by completely shutting down.

“Cheese, it’s Nicky,” Fury slowly stated.  “How are you doing?”

No response, so Nick continued to talk.  He rambled about the rebuilding efforts, he gossiped about Stark’s latest stupid stunt, how Clint Barton was doing after being lokized and he mentioned Steve Rogers.  There was no reaction from Phil, so Nick threw down his final card.

“Jemma didn’t have a place to live after the attack. She’s living with Felix as he’s really stepped up to the bar, made sure she had a safe place to live. He’s taking good care of her. You’d be proud of them, Cheese. They’re actually getting along, it’s rather remarkable.”

No response, not even an eye blink.

“Come on, Cheese.  Say something,” Fury begged.

He sat next to the shell that once one of the few men he trusted, and refused to leave until the nurses decided it was time for ‘Phil’ to go to bed.  He helped move Phil as he was literally dead weight, and he was the one to cover him with a fuzzy Captain America blanket. Nick Fury would deny, on pain of death, that he had tucked Phil in with a Captain America Teddy bear.

“Good night, Phil. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Promise,” Nick Fury assured him.

The body in the bed closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.  If he had enough awareness to think, Phil would have realized that when he was asleep, it was the only time he was free from pain.  But he didn’t, but still he sensed that he was the happiest when he was unconscious.

* * *

 

The technician was pleasant and professional, but Jemma Simmons didn’t care. She just stared at the monitor and counted the multitude of ovals.

And counted again.

To be safe, she counted three more times, even the tech chirped that she’d have to get the doctor to confirm the results. Jemma heard Felix Blake sharply inhale as he was capable of higher math also. Then he placed one hand on her shoulder and they just stared at each other in awe and terror.

“Isn’t this like a one in nine thousand possibility?” He asked. “Are you ok?”

“Phil always claimed I was an enthusiastic overachiever. It appears that he was correct,” Jemma shakily admitted. “I’m so scared right now.”

“We’ll talk to the doctor,” Felix decided in his best ‘Aliens have attacked NYC and I am the lone bastion of lucidity in a sea of insanity’ voice. “Then we can decide if panic is necessary.”

“Sod off,” Simmons snapped. “They’re all in my belly. I can bloody panic if I want to panic.”

"Remember, I'm here for you," Felix reminded her. "As long as you will take my help, I will be here."

* * *

 

When Phil woke, he remembered … something.  Two people…. That he once knew…  That he trusted…

Why had they let this happen to him? Why weren’t they looking for him? Why was he **_here_**?

What had they done to him?

He didn’t trust anyone here, as the bad people had hurt him, hurt him so badly that he had shattered, so for now, he’d pretend to be unawares. Gain his strength, lull them into complacency… and then escape.

Then he’d find those two people and everything would be better.


	15. I'm Coming Home

Two months later.

Felix Blake took a long leisurely drag on his cigarette and savored it.  He was permitted himself only two a day as the damn patches… were supposed to help him kick the habit. However, the craving was still there especially when he was stressed, but these days he _never_ smoked in the apartment. Not even on the balcony.  Today had been another day of futile apartment hunting, another day when he brought Sonya, the sweetest dog he had ever been owned by, to meet the prospective landowner only to be informed what a dangerous dog she was. Sonya realized that his frustration was her fault, though it really wasn’t, on their walk back to their apartment, her ears had been dejected, tail down and she had been the very epitome of a sad Staffie.

“Not your fault, girl,” he had assured her. “I’ll get you a new squeaky toy because you were so well behaved today.”

That done and Sonya reassured that she was the best girl in the world, he had gone to the park. He desired a long smoke before his daily walk with Jemma.  Hopefully, he’d finish it before she arrived at the designated park bench.

Naturally, the overly efficient (and evidence had proven, extremely fertile) Jemma Simmons arrived early.  

“I take it we didn’t get the apartment,” Jemma announced.  Then with some British snippiness, she added, “And you’re still smoking?”

Felix removed his cigarette and placed it in the smoking receptacle.

She sat down, heavily, and sighed. “Sonya again?”

A quick head nod acknowledged the reason.

“So that’s where my sweatshirt disappeared to,” he mock protested.

He had noticed that after her belly had decided to announce itself, Jemma had taken to stealing his clothes.  Sweaters had gone missing, as had his t-shirts but he thought her stealing his sweatshirt was a low blow. Though now he knew better than to request it back.  She had stolen his cashmere sweater (a Christmas gift from Phil as Phil had believed it had accented his eyes) and he has requested that she return it before it was stretched out of shape, because well, Jemma, it was CASHMERE. And a gift from PHIL. But mainly because it was CASHMERE. Because what had originally been worn as loose and baggy, an attempt at camouflaging her condition was no longer quite as concealing. That earnest and truly no insult implied or to be inferred request had caused her to sob uncontrollably about she wasn’t that big, not yet, and he had several months to worry before she stretched his sweaters. In his personal opinion, he mentally disagreed as some were a lost cause already, but was smart enough not to state his belief out loud. However, he would and could mourn that sweater.

_**Because it was CASHMERE.  CASHMERE, Jemma. CASHMERE.** _

He cursed the very dead Phil Coulson for leaving him wading through this emotional quagmire. A very pregnant Jemma Simmons who apparently had body issues before deciding to birth a literal Clan of Coulsons.  Really, why he had never noticed that she always wore long sleeves, concealing tops, jackets, and sweaters? Plus sometimes there was the classic buttoned top, sweater and jacket combo that had been her tried and true go to outfit.  He had quickly realized that Jemma’s eclectic style of dress was her armor against the world.  Even her pajamas had long sleeves.

“I know it’s very important that I get sufficient exercise. However the bump has decided to grow exponentially and this is baggy enough to conceal it. Everyone has felt the need to comment on The Belly today and I am just tired of everyone’s helpful comments. This sweet little old lady assured me that by this time next month, I’d forgot how heavy and awkward I am right now because I’d be holding my baby. I just couldn’t bring myself to confess that I have twenty two more weeks.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” agreed Felix, who once again, refused to admit that her pronounced belly was readily apparent under the sweatshirt. Oh well, he’d buy himself a new sweatshirt next paycheck. OK two, one for him (to be hidden somewhere safe) and one for her. He reached for his wallet, opened it and handed a preprinted fuchsia card to Jemma.  He had six of them in his wallet, and he decided today was the time to utilize it.

“What’s this?” she asked. She then read the card and smiled, “Is that **_really_** a cheat night card? I’m just not up to walking tonight.”

Felix had held a long conversation with the SHIELD perinatologist one day (Who would have thought that SHIELD had one of those on retainer?) and had confessed his fear that his methodical nature and insistence on following the perinatologist’s instructions to the letter might cause a very stressed out Jemma to rebel.  (That sounded so much better than he feared that she would utilize the night night gun on him. She did have a history of utilizing it.) After all, she had nearly broken his tablet one time as he had entered her weight after one doctor’s visit.

**_“Unless I tell you otherwise, give her a cheat night every now and then. That means, she doesn’t have to exercise or follow the diet. Just don’t do it more than once very few weeks.”_ **

“Tonight you don’t have to do anything but what you want to do. Your wish is my command, though no bungee jumping.”

“I want… Vietnamese takeout so we can go home.  Then I want you to massage my feet,” she requested.

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons was sitting on a shower bench (a supposed leftover from one of Blake’s previous surgeries that he had never discarded) while the warm water Epsom salt soak did wonders to her aching, swollen feet. 

“So no apartment due to Sonya?” she asked even as she nibbled on a spring roll.

“We’ve got time. However, let’s talk about something else, something fun,” Felix protested. He was gingerly sitting on a stool and he dunk his spring roll in the dipping sauce.

“Ok, your new assistant….” Jemma had gotten quite close with Skye since her inauspicious arrival.

“Oh good God, Mary Sue!” groaned Felix.

“What’s the story with her and Jasper? She’s constantly trying to weasel information on him from me.”  Yes, Skye was constantly slipping in comments about Sitwell into her conversations with Jemma.

“I hope you can keep this between us. Jasper and Mary Sue are Soul Mates. What seems to be Mary Sue’s favorite snappy quote, ‘I prefer to be called a hacktavist’ is emblazoned on his back. And I believe if you could find someone to translate what her Soul Mark says, it’s seems that Jasper’s first words were one of horrified and rather vulgar disbelief.”

“You speak Spanish,” Jemma prompted.

“Poorly,” was all he admitted.

“What does it say?” she pleaded.

“My good God! Why is the universe fucking me? I deserve a kiss, at least.”  Felix stated. “And no, I have no desire to find out WHERE it is adorned on her body. It must be in teeny tiny script though as that’s a great many words.”

“I don’t understand why he hasn’t mentioned it to her. It seems that he knows, right?”

“Yes, he does. However, the main reason why Skye isn’t a federal prison for that hacking stunt is because Jasper spoke in her defense. I agreed to take her on as an assistant because Jasper requested that I keep an eye on her, see if she straightens out.”

“I still don’t understand why…”

“Because not all Bond Mates are Phil Coulson. Jasper isn’t sure of her and what her true loyalties are. While he wants a Bonding, he doesn’t desire to a Bond a convicted terrorist. He’d lose his job and I don’t really see him teaching high school history, do you?” Felix asked.

“No, more of a food critic for the local paper.”

* * *

 

He helped her stand, and she toddled (waddled her insecure inner voice commented before it added additional verbs such as **_lumbered_** , shuffled and swayed even while another voice decided to play the “March of the Baby Elephants” on her mental iPOD) to the sofa. Once she reached her objective, she collapsed into the sofa with an uhm. Sonya, concerned about Simmons, decided to show her affection by resting her head on Jemma’s belly.

“Tell her to move if she’s bothering you,” Felix suggested as he returned back to the living room. He was carrying a bottle and a towel.

“She’s had a ruff day,” Jemma punned even as she scratched Sonay’s broad head. “What with that nasty man, so she just needs a little affection. Who’s the best girl, ever?”

Sonya gazed adoringly at her, even while Felix mock protested that Sonya was supposed to love him best.  He sat across from Jemma, placed a towel on his lap and placed her feet in his lap.

“Don’t kick,” he requested.  “Are you ticklish?”

“No,” she admitted, but she moved her legs once she realized that he had pulled her pant legs up to above her knee.

“Hey, do that again, and it could be very painful for me,” he protested. “Foot massage isn’t just your foot, Jemma. It’s the lower legs. Trust me. I StarkSearched how to give a foot massage.”

She tried to relax, but it took some effort until she was at the level of uncomfortableness that was her new norm. Felix waited it out, uncomplaining, even though she did notice that he sheltered his ‘package’ with his hands.

“I’m just not able to get comfortable now,” she explained which earned her a head bob.  One thing she deeply appreciated about Felix was that he never ever made any comments about her the fact that she was huge and only doomed to get huger by the day. Never touched her belly, which was pleasant as apparently rubbing her Buddha belly was deemed a good luck charm.

Plus she had met the real Felix. Not the growling, snappy Felix but the introspective, chary Felix with his love of data… though she truly believed that requiring her weight to be entered every single day was a bit much.  And yes, she was quite fond of **_that_** Felix. 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed as he poured some liquid on his hands and then rubbed his hands together. “I think you prefer citrus rather than peppermint?”

She nodded, even as she closed her eyes, content to drift.  However, she was aware enough to realize that Felix Blake had absolutely incredible hands. The next time she was fuchsia carded, she’d demand a back massage.

* * *

 

As her pregnancy progressed, she became more, rather than less, dependent on Felix Blake.  Her loyal retainer was required to help her get dressed, undressed, washed up (though she secretly found it amusing that he always insisted on closing his eyes like a little boy when he helped).  He was present for the scans, the labs, the various doctors’ appointments and most importantly, he was always there for the three AM runs to the store for crisps because she had finally ordered him to sleep in the same bed as her.

She claimed it was due to the fact that he had slept through one of her requests for help and so she desired him near her at all time. It wasn’t the truth, but she knew enough of that delicate creature known as male pride to ensure she managed him properly.  If she mentioned the fact that sleeping on the futon was obviously NOT agreeing with his back, as witnessed by his limping and his pained expression (opposed to his disgusted expression, which someone who wasn’t fluent in Blakese might not be able to interpret), he would have balked.

Instead, she just told him that he was doing it.  Perhaps a bit more snippily than Blake anticipated as he just stared at her for quite some time before he nodded his head. That night, she dreamt again of Phil, not the wounded Phil of her near nightly nightmares, but a Phil that laughingly approved at how she was managing Felix.

Not to worry, there was no impropriety that occurred. Felix slept on the edge of his side of the king sized bed, the dogs slept in the valley between them and she was cocooned with her body pillow.  

* * *

 

By her twenty second week, Jemma Simmons informed her doctor at her regularly scheduled appointment that it was time for her to stop working in the labs.

“Walking is uncomfortable,” she explained. “I’m beyond exhausted. I look like I’m eight weeks overdue. For the next fourteen weeks, I can consult with my department, but I don’t want to leave my apartment. My knees hurt, my back is screaming, and quite frankly… some days the only reason I don’t toddle around naked all day is because Felix insists I get dressed.”

Her smile was one of complete and utter innocence, which contrasted sharply with Felix Blake’s horrified blush.  Really, she was the size of the helicarrier right now, so she’d take what victories she could and savor them.

“I do not!” Felix protested. He then grimaced at how it sounded. “I’ve never told you to get dressed… because you always want to get dressed…. Not that you were lounging around naked. Oh Christ, just fuck this conversation.”

She smiled, content in her victory.

Halfway during the exam, she realized that Felix Blake was not engaged. He didn’t peer at the sonogram, didn’t whip out his tablet to put down the various weights, hers, Baby A, Baby B and Baby C. Instead he stared at his smart phone, tapped out an email and then put it away in his pocket.  For the remainder of her appointment, he was completely detached.

After he helped her sit up and get dressed again, she grabbed his hand.

“I was just being cheeky,” she explained.  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s not that,” he tersely explained.  At her gently prompting, he explained, “Last apartment fell through again because of Sonya.   I just sent an email to a Staffie rescue group asking if they might know someone who’ll take her.”

“No,” protested Simmons. “You can’t give her way. She’s a member of our family. She’s their big sister.”

“We’re running out of time, Jemma. We need to be in a new apartment soon. We haven’t really bought anything for them for several reasons…  and… my apartment isn’t big enough for the two of us now, and… later…” He sighed and then pretended a cheerfulness he didn’t possess. “So, **_our_** family?”

“You’re their Daddy,” she admitted.  “Sonya, Nekko, Blob A, Blob B and Blob C.”

Blake rapidly blinked for a bit, and his smile was shaky. “Really? Because of my… condition… I never thought…. Never hoped… I didn’t dare to get too close… just in case. ”

“Really,” she repeated. When she finally managed to get on her feet, she spontaneously embraced Felix. “I would be lost without you. And … let me call Pepper Potts. I don’t want to live in the Avenger Towers, but maybe she knows someplace that would match our needs, that wouldn’t require us giving up Sonya. I deeply appreciate everything you have done for me, so let me try to help us keep Sonya. She’s bonded with you and it would break her heart if you had to give her away.”

Jemma then tried to kiss him on his cheek, but her center of balance was off, he was taller than Phil, or maybe she subconsciously wished to do so, so instead she kissed him on his lips.  Felix kissed her back, tenderly, and then he pulled away.

He just stared at her, looking puzzled, and then he crookedly smiled.

“Careful, when I fall, I fall damn hard and you have too much going on right now. We’ve got too much happening. But that was nice, really nice,” he softly confessed. “Let’s take you home, put you to bed.”

“Would you mind holding me tonight?” she asked.

“Of course, Jemma.”

“How about a back massage?” She prompted.

* * *

 

Phil Coulson had perfected his blank gaze to the point where the staff members never conversed with him. Not anymore.

Well, one did. Jacob Streiten, who appeared in his room one day.  The doctor heavily sat down in a chair next to Phil’s bedside and he sighed. 

“Agent Coulson, I am so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.  You wanted this program shut down, and instead, you are now one of its victims.  You don’t seem to be coming back, and I guess that’s a good thing. The man you once were, would be horrified to realize that you’re… **_this_**. We’re moving you tomorrow… from here to a small nursing home in Connecticut. It’s a nice place, and they’ll take really good care of you.”

Phil said nothing. He was grateful that they had stopped monitoring his vitals several weeks previously.  There was no way some monitor jockey wouldn’t had realized that his heart rate had increased at the news he was being transferred.

“I’m sorry, Phil. I truly am.”

The doctor left then and Phil Coulson realized that his best chance for escape was tomorrow.  He’d escape… and… go home.  Hopefully, the exercise program he utilized at night had increased his muscle tone so it wouldn’t be OBVIOUS that he should be in a hospital bed.  He’d need a cane… but the big issue was… shoes… clothes… If he could make it to Penn Station, he had a locker.

“I’m coming home,” he thought. “I’m coming home.”

He would find those two people, somehow… and everything would be fine.

If he could only remember who they were, what they looked like.

Or even a name.

 _I’m coming home_  
I’m coming home  
Tell the World I’m coming home  
Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday  
I know my kingdom awaits and they’ve forgiven my mistakes  
I’m coming home, I’m coming home  
Tell the World I’m coming.

_I’m Coming Home. - J. Cole_

 


	16. Telephone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix loses his temper. He has a potty mouth.

Jemma Simmons held onto Felix Blake’s arm as they exited Medical post-exam. She had already cleaned up her office and lab as she had informed Fitz that afternoon that she didn’t think she’d be returning… not until after the babies arrived.  She leaned heavily on Blake and he slowed down his normally long strides to an easier pace.

“Wow, sometimes it’s hard to believe that I used to enjoy sleeping on my stomach,” she admitted.   “Especially as I’m having problems believing I could ever sleep on my stomach.”

Blake bit back a laugh, and smiled a very crooked grin.

“I actually understand that feeling. When I was in the halo, I wanted so badly to sleep on my stomach. Or my side. Anything but in a sitting position, and I feared sneezing because it was excruciating. The entire experience was horrible, I couldn’t take a deep breath. I couldn’t take a shower and it was three months of fucking hell,” he admitted.  “Just remember, you’re more than half way there.”

He tilted his head and then nodded.

“Sixty one percent of the way there,” she snippily informed him.

“Yes, but keep your eyes on the prize,” he reminded her. “At the end of my three months, I had scars from the pins, and when I’m tired, my neck lists to the left. So, cheat night? We could go see a movie? Chick flick? _Promised Land_?  _Argo_? I know… _Transformers_!”

“Too tired,” she sadly admitted. “And I’m on house arrest as soon as we get home. Though she did permit me to have one last night of fun before I enter the cloister.”

“I could take you for a ride on my Harley,” deadpanned Felix. His delivery was so straight that Jemma did a double take.

“How about dinner?” he then asked.  “Seafood?”

* * *

 

“I have to slip him a suitable tip when we leave. Now more importantly, I will figure out a way to keep you behaving during your house arrest,” he informed her as they entered the restaurant. Fortunately the maître de felt compassion for Jemma as she looked close to spawning then and there which would cause the restaurant’s Michelin rank to drop astronomically, so he put them at the head of the list with a polite, ‘I saved your reservations, Sir.’

“I’ll behave if you massage my feet every night,” she demanded.

“I give excellent back massages,” he traded.  “However, what am I getting out of it? For me?”

“You can name one of the babies,” she offered.

“Seriously, isn’t Blob C already named Phil?” Blake asked as Blob C was the lone boy in the group. “Besides, haven’t you already named them?”

“No, I was worried about…” she grimaced.  “So much could go have gone wrong, so much can still go wrong. Their lungs… ”

Felix leaned his face on his left hand, and stated, “Name them. Give yourself permission to hope and plan.”

“I worry if something happens to me…” Jemma began and Felix sat up straight.

“Positive thoughts,” he reminded her.  “That’s not a positive plan.”

“You’re listing to the left,” Jemma murmured as there was a slight slant to Felix’s profile.

“I’m a little tired,” he admitted.  However, Jemma noticed that while he straightened his posture, he couldn’t hide the other signs.  The redness in his eyes, or the fact that he appeared exhausted.

“Then why are we having dinner instead of you going home?” Jemma protested, even as the waiter dropped off a large platter of fish n’ chips with chippie sauce in front of her. And mushy peas, she was delighted to see.

“You’re hungry. Right now my focus is on you. I took some Tylenol, and I’m fine. So baby names.  Family names, you’d like to use? Any personal Heroes or Heroines you’d like to honor? Margaret Carter? Aila Keto? Sofia Simmonds?”

Jemma put down her fork, regretfully, as the fish was flakey and tender.

“You’ve done your research on me,” she protested as Blake had named all her personal heroes.

“Guilty,” he admitted as he neatly speared his lobster in order to dunk it in butter with sheer wild abandonment (much to Jemma’s jealousy as Butter While Permitted Was Heavily Rationed on the Let’s Get Jemma Simmons Huge Diet Plan). “Phil asked me to keep watch, so I needed the intel.”

“How about you? Don’t I get any intel on you?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted with a flat smile. If his expression could be considered a smile.

“That’s not fair,” she protested.

He motioned at her to eat, so dutifully, she did.  They had just finished her meal and were discussing afters when Jemma’s phone rang. The ring tone that blared from her phone was “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.”

“It’s Pepper,” she explained even while Felix mentally agreed it was the appropriate ringtone for one Pepper Potts, Babysitter Extraordinaire. “Hi.”

Jemma listened for a bit and then explained, “That’s wonderful. We’d love to see it tonight, but it’s too far for me to walk as we’re not at the apartment. We’re actually out for dinner.”  She paused, rattled off the addressed and smiled. “Wonderful. Happy will be here in fifteen minutes? Excellent. I’ll let Felix know.”

She put away her phone and explained, “Pepper thinks she has the perfect place for us. It’s going on the market tomorrow but she got an early preview. It’s located two blocks away from where your apartment is, and she’s sending Happy with a car.”  

* * *

 

Pepper Potts popped out of the car and warmly greeted Jemma as the two women had become fast friends. Felix wisely stayed behind Jemma in order to be the Muscle to offer clandestine assistance as she was quite ungainly these days. Meanwhile, Potts literally jogged in what seemed to be eight inch stilettos and a skirt that showed off her mile long legs. Look, Blake had admitted that he was demisexual and demiromantic, plus he was currently babysitting his dead love of his life’s pregnant… VERY PREGNANT… wife; he wasn’t getting any, didn’t think there was any in his future but he could admire the view.

He was highly selective, not dead. Thank you VERY MUCH.

“Look at you!” Potts exclaimed to a rather weary Jemma.  “You’re…”

“Huge,” Jemma offered. Her hands were on her lower back so it appeared that she was in some discomfort.

“Radiant,” Pepper announced.

“Exhausted,” dryly inserted Felix Blake. “Can we get her in the car please? It is rather damp and chilly.”

“He takes his role as Jemma Minder very seriously,” Jemma protested as even as she bestowed a bright smile on her Most Earnest and Chivalrous Retainer. “He’s very conscientious.”

“Phil thought very highly of him,” Pepper agreed.

Felix realized that it hurt. The flippant reminder how once upon a time, Phil Coulson had thought enough of him… He couldn’t continue his thought, but … the old wound of abandonment burned and festered. Tonight, he was on his last dregs and his skin was paper thin.  

“Yes, he did,” Jemma admitted. “But for some reason, Phil didn’t tell me everything, especially how Felix blushes when someone says something nice about him. Like now, for example.”

“Can we get you into the car?” He asked. His tone was bit curt, but he wasn’t blushing. NO. NOT AT ALL.

“Front seat?”  Pepper offered even as Happy opened that door to expose a leather seat.

“Back passenger,” Felix explained. “Air bags, you know.”

It took some maneuvering, but he and Jemma were soon sitting next to each other. She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

“Didn’t mean to upset you by mentioning Phil,” she whispered. “I know how much you miss him.”

“Whatever feelings I may have once possessed for Phil were long over by the time he died,” he quietly stated.

Felix Blake wasn’t in the mood to discuss Phil Coulson with Jemma or with anyone, in fact.  Fortunately, Jemma nodded her head in what he hoped was silent agreement.

* * *

 

When the car parked in the heavily secured garage, Felix immediately knew that there was no way in hell he could afford this apartment.  There were doormen, and … an elevator operator who took them to the fricking penthouse.

Five bedrooms.  A view of Manhattan.

“I think this will match your needs perfectly,” Potts announced. “For example, this door here, leads to your private dog run that’s on the rooftop.”

Jemma grabbed his elbow and happily exclaimed, “They permit dogs here, Felix. You can keep Sonya and Nekko.”

But if he couldn’t afford the apartment, then did it really matter? He could afford $2,500… possibly stretching to 3K, 3.25K max.  His phone rang, so he motioned for them to continue on without him. He had an appointment with a realtor in Harlem tomorrow so … maybe that apartment would work.

“Hello, I’m calling for a Felix Blake?”  It was a warm, southern voice that he immediately distrusted.

“It is I,” he tersely answered. “And you are?”

“I’m Jessica. I’m calling from the Susie’s Staffie Saviors?”  The woman stated.

“Oh good,” he lied.  Time to put in motion his plan for Sonya. (And no, he wasn’t getting teary eyed as he was a Level 7 SHIELD Agent ok? OK!)

“I need to ask some questions,” she explained. “For example…”

“Sonya is a sweetie,” he interrupted. “An absolute cuddler. I had her tested with the Behavior and Temperament test, she passed every part with flying colors. I have a copy of her certificate which I can email to you. She’s really good with kids and we had started training together as a therapy dog, but I had to give it up as I didn’t have the time to complete the course. My job changed, so it was my fault.”

“Actually, your phone call said that you needed to get rid of your family member because you needed to get a new apartment.  How hard have you tried?”  Jessica asked.

Oh great. His temper was razor-thin and he had to deal with a sanctimonious bastard who was no doubted newly appointed to the intake team. He had dealt with Susie’s rescue group before – he had gotten the elderly bonded pair of Bogie and Bacall from them, plus Bambi, a beautiful fawn brindled colored pittie who no one had wanted because they couldn’t see beyond her mangled face. She had been the gentlest dog ever.

He had even fostered for them, including a gaggle of newborn mastiffs that had chewed Phil’s leather shoes to shreds.

“I don’t want to do this, as I rescued her from a life as a bait puppy, but I need to get a new apartment. The only ones that I am willing to live in and that accept Staffies are twice what I can afford. I need a new apartment as soon as possible. I need to move soon, and I’ll pay for you to foster her until you get the perfect match for her. She’s a sweet dog and I’ll want to meet her new owners to see if they’re good enough for her.”

There, his temper was under control but he could tell it was fraying. Too many sleepless nights, too much emotional stress and John Garrett… God what was John doing?  Bastard was doing something but he was being pulled too many ways to detect it, and he had promised Victoria that he’d make it a priority.

“This is not how it works, Mr. Blake. If you abandon your family member … you can’t seriously anticipate that we’ll let you help chose her new family.”

“I am not abandoning her… I am trying to place her with a reputable rescue group…” he protested.

“In order to get better apartment, uncaring of her personal attachment to you… A dog isn’t a plant, Mr. Blake…” she protested. “To be replaced because you want a bigger apartment.”

That was it. His mouth engaged, and his filter went on a one way trip to Asgard.

“Listen.  My…. Brother… of another mother… died in the battle of New York.  His wife is pregnant and about to be put on bed rest any day now. I promised him that if anything happened to him, I’d help her…. Well…  I don’t **_WANT_** …. I **_NEED_** … do you understand me…. **_NEED_** …. a fucking bigger apartment that has more than one bedroom…. Within fifteen minutes walking of my job… because if something happens… I have to be there… and … the only places I can afford that will let me keep my dog… my fucking best friend… are fucking crack dens… which are fit neither for babies or for pit bulls. I’ve reviewed thirty five fucking apartments, bitch… and the only ones that are fit for human occupation AND will let me keep Sonya… will require me to tap into my retirement funds as they are at least double what I’m currently paying for rent.  So fuck you, asshole. Fuck you and your fucking attitude, you think I want to get rid of her, my best friend in the entire world? Do you think I fucking enjoy saving the world on a fucking civil servants salary? Fuck you, asshole. It’s not like I’m just abandoning her on a roadway because I found another dog….  I’m not walking away without looking back just because I found something better. I’m doing it because I’ve run out of options and your fucking attitude isn’t helping a situation that is breaking my heart because I don’t walk on my loved ones. So fuck you, sunshine, you’re not getting Sonya. And I am never fostering another dog for you again.”

He slammed his phone down on the granite countertop (NATURALLY! AS FORMICA WOULD HAVE BEEN CHEAPER! SOMETHING HE COULD HAVE AFFORDED) after disconnecting.  There was a sharp crack as he broke the display and most of the inners of his Samsung.

“Fucking asshole,” he growled. He rested his head against the stainless steel refrigerator (NATURALLY!) and whispered, “You should have asked Nick, Phil. Should have asked him. You should have ask anybody but me, because… I just can’t do it. I just can’t take care of all my responsibilities.”

After a minute or two to collect himself, Blake opened his eyes to realize that Happy Hogan was staring at him from the Open Concept Main Room. (Naturally. Because that was more MONEY.  Funny, one would have thought additional WALLS would have raised the rent. Not the other way ‘round.)

“Would it be possible to ensure that Jemma gets a ride back to the apartment? Please tell her that I got called into work,” he requested, even as he removed any and all traces of his burner cell.

Happy, having dealt with Tony Stark and his idiosyncrasies for year, refrained from commenting on how unlikely that was as Felix’s cell now consisted of roughly one hundred thousand small, inoperable parts. Instead, discretion being the better part of valor, Happy merely nodded his head.

“I wouldn’t have given my dog to them either,” Happy stated.

* * *

 

Phil Coulson looked at the two ambulance attendants that he had successfully disarmed. The two men were neatly restrained, even though they were both unconscious. Really, they had been rather easy to neutralize especially in a Model 1 Ambulance. Their training was rather lacking, he admitted which had been a good thing as he was in piss poor shape.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his voice rusty from disuse. “I have to find him. I’ll pay you back when I can… promise…”

He left the ambulance that was in front of a 5 Guys burger joint and he walked towards the end of the strip mall. He noticed the traffic cameras, tried to avoid them as The Bad Guys would be looking for him once they realized that the ambulance crew was out of service and WHY.  By the time he reached the end of the mall, he was quite winded.

“You look like shit, man,” a trucker informed him. He was a big man, a Marine by the look of him, and he stared at Phil for a bit. “You a vet?”

“Desert Shield,” admitted Phil.  

“Need a lift?” was the surprisingly response.

“Ridgewood,” Phil agreed, as he remembered a cemetery and… placing money, ids and other necessaries in a columbarium. “I’ll pay for dinner.”

“No worries, pass the favor on when you’re back on your feet,” the trucker suggested.  “When I got out of ‘Nam, no one helped me. I hit bottom and finally someone gave me a chance. Turned my life around and she told me to pay it forward. ”

The Marine (Once a Marine! Always a Marine! Sempre Fi!) had to assist him into the rig, and Phil was asleep before they left the lot.

* * *

 

Felix Blake took a long night time stroll in the city that never sleeps. That nickname was a misnomer, as there were quite a few blocks where the city was currently zonked out on sleeping pills.  It was slightly after three when he returned back to the apartment. Hopefully, Jemma was sound asleep but alas, it was not to be. He should find the energy to protest, that it **_was_** three AM. She should be sleeping as the babies needed rest.

She was sitting on the couch, waiting for him, it seemed.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asked.

“I wanted to see how you were,” was her surprising answer. “I heard your argument with the rescue group. I tried calling you but it went straight to voice mail.”

Well, yes, that burner cell was smashed into non-usability.  Up to now, only Phil had the number but…

He slowly exhaled. “I’ll talk to HR on Monday – see if I can tap into my retirement so I can afford something that will match all our needs. I have an appointment for a place in Harlem later today.”

In five hours.  God, he needed sleep, but sharing the bed with Jemma wasn’t working, as part of him was always hyperaware that she was there, that he needed to be available just in case SOMETHING WENT WRONG AS PHIL WAS DEPENDING ON HIM.

“Pepper was right, what we saw tonight would be perfect,” Jemma admitted, before she added, “Well, what I saw. You didn’t look at it. However, we think we can get the dent of the refrigerator that you put there. Do you have a bump on your head?”

“Why?  We can’t afford it,” he protested. “That was easily six thousand a month, Jemma. There is no way…”

“It’s actually not six thousand a month. It’s two thousand a month, exactly what you pay now,” Jemma explained. “Stark owns the building and Pepper has written the contract so it is rent controlled for as long as we live there.”

“No,” protested Felix. “No, no, no. I will **_not_** live in that egomaniac’s building. I will find another place, take all my retirement money but I will find some place that will work. And Sonya will be staying with us.”

“It’s not Stark, Felix. It is… but it isn’t the real reason,” Jemma protested.

“What’s the reason?” Felix asked.

“Please, talk to Pepper and let’s sign the contract today.  Felix, it’s an amazing apartment, and… there’s a dog run, a private dog run that is assigned to that apartment. You could even pick up another rescue if you wanted,” she offered. “There’s no surcharge for Sonya.”

Felix bonelessly collapsed into a chair.

“Felix, please. You need to stop punishing yourself,” was her surprising retort.  “Regardless of what you told me last night, I know the truth. You loved him for twenty years, and you still loved him on the day he died. I don’t know why you won’t permit yourself to admit it. I mean, since the day that Phil died, you haven’t mourned, you haven’t grieved…. Instead you’ve been focusing all your energy on me… I’m watching you try to move mountains due to some misguided belief that you need to justify Phil’s faith in you. You don’t need to justify it to me, and I know Phil doesn’t care one way or the other, Felix. Because he’s **_dead_**.”

She didn’t say it cruelly, just matter-of-factly.

“I know that,” Felix admitted.

“Then to whom are you trying to prove yourself? You’re exhausted, Felix. I heard you yelling at the Rescue Group tonight and that comment about abandoning Sonya on the roadside? I’ve never heard you so angry, and it wasn’t just about Sonya. You were reliving what Phil did to you.”

Felix said nothing, and then Jemma softly exclaimed, “Dear God, you’re trying to prove Phil’s faith in you to yourself. Why?”

 _Because if I had been a little bit better, tried a little harder, maybe he would have stayed. Instead, he willingly … eagerly… went with you,_ was his unspoken lament.   _Twenty years we had been together, and he couldn’t even say goodbye to me before he kissed you._

* * *

 

Phil thanked the trucker and headed to a diner, where he claimed he was meeting someone.  He reached the diner, took a left and after a far too long walk, he entered the columbarium, located a familiar name and he placed his palm on the name plate.

It disappeared, showing a small cubby hole that was most assuredly not empty. No, there was money, a wallet with IDs, two handguns and ammunition.

And a cell phone.

He took the items and the name plate rematerialized, looking as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

“That is wicked cool,” Phil announced.

He turned on the cell phone and punched in a vaguely remembered number. Yes, it was three in the morning, but… he wasn’t sure of anything right now except for the fact that he trusted Felix Blake.

“Speak at the beep,” said a male voice. There were two dogs that ‘spoke’ after that and Phil waited for the beep.

“Hi. I need help.” Phil then disconnected the phone as he didn’t want to be traced.  Just in case. He'd turn on the phone once a day, to see if Felix called back.

God, they hadn't gotten to Felix, had they?

 

 _Hello, hello, baby, you called?_  
I can't hear a thing  
I have got no service  
In the club, you say? say?  
Wha-wha-what did you say, huh?  
You're breakin' up on me  
Sorry I cannot hear you  
I'm kinda busy  
Kinda busy  
Kinda busy  
Sorry I cannot hear you, I'm kinda busy

_Telephone – Lady Gaga_

 


	17. In My Life

Nick Fury, enraged, was not a very pretty sight.  Not a very pleasant sound either as the hapless soul had decided to wake him to inform him that Phil Coulson was missing.  From what the ambulance attendants were saying, it appeared that they had been attacked by someone who had known that Phil Coulson was being transferred.

Because there was no way, Phil Coulson, currently status asparagus, would have been able to overpower the ambulance personnel.

“You !#@*%!@# find him! NOW!” he roared at his underling. “FIND OUT WHAT WENT WRONG! FIND OUT WHO TOOK HIM!”

* * *

 

“Go to bed, Felix,” Jemma fiercely ordered.  Her sternness was utterly ruined by her big yawn and the simple fact, that Jemma Simmons was not particularly frightening in her current condition. (Except as a poster child for the risk of unprotected sex(.

“After I put you to bed, I’ll need to walk the kids first as I usually walk them at five,” Blake rumbled. “You should have gone to sleep, Simmons.”

“I was worried about you,” she protested. 

“Don’t worry about me. You need to only concentrate on taking care of yourself and the kids,” was his retort.  His tone was curt, but his hand gentle as he offered her a boost to a standing position. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She rolled her eyes at him, which phased him not one bit.  She took his offer for support and managed to get back on her feet.

“If anything happened to you, what would become of me?” She asked, even as she blinked her eyes in fake innocence. “I’d be stuck in that sofa.”

“Steve Rogers,” Blake stated. “He’s offered to paint the nursery. I understand that is every girl’s fantasy, to be waited upon by Captain America…. He’d probably even carry you to bed. Sadly, I think I can just about carry a gallon of milk without risk of permanent injury.” 

Jemma just gave him the Big Bambi eyes and she shook her head, “I’d much prefer you.  He’d suffocate me.”

“While I just…” he paused and waited for her input. When she failed to interject a suitable verb, he prompted her with, “Aggravate, annoy, upset….”

“Support, console, cheer, and remind me constantly in a thousand different ways why Phil loved you as much as he did,” she interjected.  “He really did.”

He was too exhausted to fight nice, to politely dissent why she was wrong, so he said nothing because… the facts disagreed. And the photos… and the power point presentation… and the cell phone videos….

“I wish you’d believe me,” she protested. “You’re really quite lovable in your own unique, tetchy way.”

Really, damned by faint British praise, he thought.  Being completely defeated, physically and emotionally exhausted and maudlin to boot, his pensiveness made him easy prey.  Jemma pulled his head down towards her level and she kissed him on his cheek.

He was in a very bad head space, and he knew how he was.  His intrinsic need to rescue damsels in distress. If he **_fell_** , he’d **_fall_** so damn hard…   and he knew that he was too close to the cliff’s edge.

Because Jemma was the other half of Phil’s soul.

And that wound wasn’t close to healing.

“Go to bed, Jemma,” he pleaded.

Jemma was propped into a comfortable sleeping position and she was asleep before he had collected the kids for their morning run.

* * *

 

_She was walking… down an unfamiliar street.   A side glance in one of the store windows proved what she suspected, that even in her dreams, she was powerfully pregnant.  Really, so not fair that she couldn’t be svelte in her dream, so she sat down in a comfortable recliner. (Hey, it was her dream, so she was glad that she dreamed up a recliner that was invisible so no one could see her as she was tired of being a freak show)._

_“Hey, don’t need to hide from me,” Phil said.  He appeared out of nowhere, and he handed her flowers.  A small bunch of cellophane wrapped flowers, as though he picked them up from the grocery store on the way home from work. He had done that on occasion, though he usually preferred to stop at a florist. The gesture was familiar and reassuring._

_“I miss you so much,” she whispered.  “It’s been almost six months and it still hurts as much as it did when I first found out.”_

_“I’m sorry, I wish I could have prevented you from experiencing this,” he apologized. “However, I’m glad you’re keeping an eye on Felix. You have gotten behind his walls.”_

_“Am I behind them?” she asked. “He’s such a prickly cactus.”_

_“With a marshmallow interior. You saw how he reacted when he was trying to rehome Sonya.” There was a loud screech of tires, and a fearful Phil reacted.  “They can’t see you, don’t worry. But tell Felix you want a burner cell. Tell him to use the number he gave me. If you move, I won’t be able to find your dreams if you don’t have the cell.”_

_“He smashed it,” Jemma protested._

_“Tell him!”  Phil commanded even as he began to run. He ran like a gazelle, like the hounds of hell were after him. Threatening shadows materialized around Phil and he fell to the ground, even as he screamed in pain. “She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t. I swear she doesn’t! I haven’t been in contact with anyone!”_

_Overhead, there was a sound of a helicopter and there was a bright spotlight that focused on where Phil was._

_“Run,” She heard Phil plead even as the shadows overwhelmed him. “Run like hell.”_

She woke then, her heart beating as though it was about to leap from her chest. Felix, most likely not asleep, jumped into a sitting position and reached for his phone.

“What happened? Do I need to call an ambulance?” He asked.

“Just hold me,” she requested.  She was close to coming completely undone and she just wished to be held.  

“Another Phil dream?” Felix asked. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

There was some maneuvering as she was as graceful as a sloth on sleeping pills. However, she was soon resting her head on Felix’s chest and she ordered him once more to hold her.

“Jemma,” Felix protested.

“I just want to pretend that Phil is holding me right now,” she protested before she broke into tears.  Damn her hormones, damn her emotions as she was uncontrollably sobbing on FELIX BLAKE.  “Please, I need you to pretend.”

He hesitantly began to stroke her hair, even as he quietly began to reassure her. “It was just a bad dream. Close your eyes and get some sleep, Jemma. The babies need you to sleep.”

It was almost like being held by Phil, Jemma realized. Felix was warm…. Safe… comforting… and it was nice… to be held. She was exhausted, almost exhausted enough to fall asleep, but still she murmured a sleepy protest when Felix ceased stroking her hair. After a long period of hesitation, Felix began to stroke her hair once more.

Her back twinged, so she moved. She accidentally brushed against Felix, felt **_something_** … and Felix sputtered an apology.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeated. Then desperately, he added, “It’s the first time… I swear… I… swear… just stroking your hair… was just… was… ”

Jemma almost laughed, from sheer nervous exhaustion, because she just didn’t know how to handle this. The solitary man himself, Felix Blake, demisexual, demiromantic, was sporting a rather impressive… trouser snake… and she was really unbelievably pregnant.

She needed to handle this delicate situation with finesse and understanding because Felix being… interested… in that way… meant that he had formed an emotional connection with her. And somehow, Jemma Simmons believed that Phil would be the first to approve.

“You dear, sweet man, you don’t have to apologize,” she protested.  “It’s really… **_flattering_** …”

“I won’t do anything,” he insisted. “I can go without sex for years. I mean, Phil was the last time… the women I dated afterwards, they just didn’t do anything for me.”

How unbelievably **_sad_** , Jemma thought.  To lack a soul bond was bad enough but… no sex for two years? To be unable to feel closeness with another person? How terribly, terribly lonely.

“Felix, you know as well as I do that I am not permitted anything that might push me into premature labor. However, two years, Felix? Two whole years?” Jemma asked even as she gently stroked him with one finger. She was rewarded with a soft inhalation.

“Don’t do that, please,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Felix, let me… please,” she requested even as she stopped stroking him. “Tell me not to, and I won’t.”

“You don’t need to,” he protested. **_Naturally_**. He was giving her an escape.  “I know this is completely one way.”

“I want to take care of you. Grab something so we can clean up the mess,” she requested as she began to stroke him once more. “Should I do this… slower?”

“Please,” he whispered. “It’s been so long… May I kiss you, please? Not on the mouth, of course. But top of your head? Maybe… stroke your back?”

Because while he wanted closeness, he didn’t want to force her.

“That would be lovely,” she stated.

* * *

 

Phil turned on the cell phone, long enough to realize that Felix hadn’t called him back.   He needed to be on the move, because they must have realized that he had escaped.

He had to warn Felix about THEM, so he called the burner cell number on a payphone. In his best vacation Spanish, complete with a nasal pitch to his voice, he protested about Miguel selling him rotten avocados which was their code for danger. He hung up and then hailed a taxi. There was a storage unit that he needed to access, and he had to be quick.

 

 _Though I know I'll never lose affection_  
For people and things that went before  
I know I'll often stop and think about them  
In my life, I love you more  
In my life-- I love you more

_In My Life – The Beatles_

 


	18. Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's always a morning after, even if it's really the afternoon after.

When Jemma woke, she was alone in bed. Well, she wasn’t really alone, as there was a rather large Staffie terrier who was loudly snoring next to her. It seemed that Felix Blake had reacted like he normally did, by running for the hills.

“Where is that damn Felix Houdini?” She whispered.

One of the babies kicked her hard in the ribs, which set off the entire unsynchronized conga line.  She moaned a protest, which they ignored as they were training her early for what life would be like.

“Hey? You ok?” Felix asked as he entered his room. He was juggling a bed tray heavily laden with food. There was even a small bud vase with a small apricot colored flower.  A Ranunculus, she decided. Her waiter of the day, Felix, had even showered and shaved plus was he wearing his **_best_** casual clothes? His hair was thoroughly slicked back in a spit and polish style that she had witnessed only once – Phil’s funeral as Felix was a firm believer in the joys of towel drying one’s hair.

 Yes, steely-eyed Felix Blake, able to shout down Tony Stark, had the faintest whiff of Morning-After-Terrors.

“Baby kicks,” she stated.

“Oh,” he said. “Painful, I take it?”

“You have no idea,” Jemma snipped.  Because Felix hadn’t **_ever_** touched her belly. No, he had always been careful about how and where he touched her… because she looked as though she was about to have an Alien xenomorph and its crew pop out of her belly. When her conscience decided to scold her and poke her in the other side of her rib cage, the voice sounded like a great deal like Phil Coulson.

_Felix knew he was on dangerous ground with you, that he’d form an emotional attachment. For him, the closeness happens first, and then the attraction starts.  So he tried not to let you know, didn’t want to embarrass you._

_Yes, the ‘I’m not really interested in you’ modus operandi worked really well with you, didn’t it? Didn’t you tell me that you two fucked like bunnies first and then he decided to have a relationship with you only after years of you pursing him?_

_Jemma, you still don’t get what being a demiromantic is, do you? The first time Felix and I kissed, we were in a relationship and had been for some time. Because he never would have kissed me, if the emotional connection hadn’t existed for him. I fibbed to you that because…  Felix is very private.   Just be kind to him, please._

_I can’t promise him anything!_

_He’s not asking for anything!  Right now he’s praying that he didn’t fuck up everything! He didn’t fall asleep afterwards, you know. He was too horrified to sleep!_

_Was I that bad? I tried to make it… nice… for him._

She tried not to remember how he had tenderly kissed her hair, how he murmured soft words afterwards… _you brave, brilliant girl_ …. how he had stroked her back until she had fallen asleep.

How he had fled while she had slept.

_Jemma, it was REALLY nice. That’s the problem!_

_I don’t understand!_

_Because you don’t have a penis!_

“Do you want me to leave?” Blake prompted as apparently her conversation with Phantom Phil was taking place in Real Time. Her mental Phil popped away, and left her alone to face Blake. Naturally.

Oh Christ, he had even polished his boots!

“I’m just trying to convince myself that I possess the energy to reposition myself.” It was the truth or it would soon be, so she wasn’t lying, per say.

Blake placed the tray on the dresser after he ordered Sonya off the bed. He held out his hands, awkwardly, as though he had to wrestle a rabid alligator and feared losing a hand. “Do you want my help?”

“Yes,” she commanded.

Much awkwardness ensued as he was being too careful, too deliberate in how he touched her in only carefully chosen locations.  Then the bump got in the way so the tray had to be adjusted. That done, Jemma smiled in approval at what he had prepared for her and then she saw the bell. A small steel bell which was a new addition.

“A bell?” she asked even as Felix was making his escape to Canada… or Switzerland… or one of the outer boros.

“In case you need me,” he offered.  “Just give it a ring.”

That was it. She picked up the offending stainless steel bell and rang it. Loudly. It possessed a nice, crisp tone so she would be ringing it NIGHT and DAY with TRUE DELIGHT!  Was it mean to admit that she rather enjoyed how Felix’s face blanched? Yes, but she was quite pregnant, so that was her excuse for the next three months or so.

“Sit your bum in a chair,” she ordered. “Have some toast. We need to talk.”

He sat in a chair, and Jemma sighed. “Perhaps you could sit closer so I don’t have to screech like a British Banshee?”

“Sure,” he agreed, as he moved all of a meter closer!  “First of all, I just want to say… about what happened between us… thank you. It was… nice… And I would hope that it goes without saying that I don’t anticipate that there will be a repeat.”

“Then why are you saying that?” She asked.

Good Girl Jemma knew that she shouldn’t have said that. Meanwhile, Bad Girl Simmons knew that, but she was achy and uncomfortable and… really what else was there to do but snark?  However, Jemma was extremely tempted by her avocado toast, with a dash of red peppers (Full of omega-3s) with its accompanying perfectly poached egg. Therefore, she decided to start eating, stop abusing poor Felix and let Blake talk.

“And… I just hope… that in spite of knowing that I am classified as a demisexual… and you know how I …. Feel… that you still trust me enough to continue assisting you. If you feel uncomfortable with me, which is completely understandable… I have a list of possible people that would be willing to help. However, I hope that you will have faith in me when I promise you… it won’t happen again.  The new apartment has sufficient bedrooms so I can have my own room.”

Really, the avocado toast was requiring her concentration to digest that and Felix’s statement, so she continued to eat. However, at least he had accepted that they were moving to the new apartment, so it was a partial win.

“I promise you that I can behave…” he stated.  “I have some experience with my feelings being unreciprocated and… I am quite confident you will inform me if I make you uncomfortable with the strength of my sincere regard.”

Really Blake, if she wasn’t up with duff with a literal clan of Coulson, she’d be Sincerely Regarding his ass into complete sexual submission as her hormones were in lusty overdrive at the moment. Fortunately, in five minutes, the hormones would shut off and she’d remember why she hated sex. (I.E. Fifty pound weight gain, itchy stretch marks and her boobs would NEVER recover. NEVER. And they had been so delightfully perky before this.)

“Oh yes, because I fear that at any moment, you’ll jump into bed and ravage me. Felix, at the moment, I don’t think you could find my quim without God’s own luck, a map and a Hoyer Life,” she admitted. “It’s somewhere underneath the bump but it’s closed at the moment and will remain so the next three months, **_hopefully_**. Felix, you are a very dear, sweet man, though somewhat exasperating. I desire you to sit closer to me when I talk to you.”

He came closer, a wee bit shell-shocked by her use of the vulgar ‘quim’, and she pointed to the bed next to her.

“Get in the bed, Felix,” she ordered with some asperity as she WAS BLOODY UNCOMFORTABLE. “I can quite assure you that nothing will happen as I will not take your virginity. I need you to sit on the bed with me.”

Hesitantly, he sat next to her on the bed after removing the tray from the bed.

“Hands,” she ordered.

“Hands? Up?” Felix questioned as he was quite confused. He held them up and she grabbed them.  “I promised you that I wouldn’t touch you.”

“I want to talk to you and I think it would be beneficial to put your hands here while I do so,” she commanded. Without warning, she placed his hands on her belly.  “Do you feel them kicking? They’re very active now. I’ve noticed that when you talk to me they become more active. It’s your voice, they recognize your voice, Felix.”

There was something going on underneath his hands. Perhaps a line dance, perhaps someone was trying out for the football team, but there was movement.

“They know my voice?” he asked, awestruck, which earned him what seemed like a wrestling team pinning a feisty opponent beneath his hands. “They know my voice?”

“Of course they know your voice. You’re part of this, Felix. You’re their Da,” Jemma whispered. “I know you, Felix ** _. I know you._** And I’m terribly sorry that you have developed those tremendously sweet feelings for me, because I can’t treat you like you deserve. I need to focus on this right now.”

“I didn’t ask you to reciprocate,” protested Felix. “I never asked that because I know you still love Phil.”

 ** _And so do you_** , she felt like reminding him.

“No, you are asking me not to send you away,” she shakily whispered. “I can’t let you go, I can’t let you leave, because you’re part of this. You’re my strength and my stability, Felix. I’m not letting you leave, and I wish I could give you what you deserve. And by that, I mean, the love that a hero like you truly merits, not those tattered shreds you think you warrant.”

“Don’t leave me, Felix. Not like Phil did. Promise me, Felix,” she wept as it was time for tears. She latched onto Felix and wept on his perfectly ironed Henley.  And really, because he deserved it for being an utterly noble prat, she took her hand and messed up his perfect hair.

“I promise I won't leave you alone,” he assured her.

 

_There goes my hero_  
 _Watch him as he goes_  
 _There goes my hero_  
 _He's ordinary…_

_Hero – Foo Fighters_


	19. At Last

Phil picked up the phone and dialed the number that he knew by heart.  As always, he hoped that Felix would answer the phone, but he hadn’t. Not yet.  Maybe today would be his lucky day.

No such luck as he heard the all too familiar voice mail message.

“Hey, it’s me. I don’t remember…. what happened…just bits and pieces… but please don’t be dead. **_Please_**. I’m hoping… that I pissed you off really, really bad… that’s why you haven’t called me back.  The apartment’s gone… and... I can’t find your name on any of the lists… but… please, don’t be dead. I don’t know who I can trust… except for you.”

The message left, Phil Coulson walked towards the dog park.  He wasn’t sure if it was the right dog park, but it was a dog park.

He’d sit and watch the dogs for a bit, because it was the only time he felt… normal… especially when he watched the bully breeds.  He was always on the lookout for familiar looking dogs. The two old dogs who were tight as thieves, the sweet dog with a ruined face whose gentle soul showed in her eyes, the little black and white terrier, the brindle Staffie, the old bulldog who loved kids so much.

That damn gap in his memory… the scars on his chest and back… that scar in his rapidly receding hairline.  Who was the far too young brunette with the British accent and the wide smile?  Why did he remember kissing her?

* * *

 

Every day Felix returned home, he wasn’t sure what to anticipate.

To admit his fear regarding Jemma’s erratic moods was almost comical. He found he didn’t mind the angry, moody Jemma (as well he wasn’t the extremely fertile Jemma or the highly potent Phil Coulson so her condition wasn’t **_his_** fault), as much as he feared the overly demonstrative Jemma and her clandestine attacks of affection.   Apparently, she had quickly determined and analyzed how much he enjoyed his neck being rubbed and well, certain other parts. Neck rubs were all well and good, especially when he was in discomfort. However, when her hands came to crossing the international border, he would quickly remind her of the ground rules.  If he couldn’t reciprocate, then he wouldn’t permit it to be one-sided.

If he was conscious, that was. If he wasn’t, if he was close to sleep… well… they **_were_** in a relationship of some sort.  Maybe?  

And he was defenseless when he was asleep.

However at twenty nine weeks, Jemma was on restriction – majority of her time was spent in bed-rest and while her mind was quite active, her body wasn’t cooperating. And truly, he knew too much about her thankfully sturdy complete cervix (one might say he knew it intimately, but that comment was rather crude and not true), the stretch marks and how her the milkmaids had arrived.  (AND HE HOPED COULSON WAS ROTTING IN HELL FOR MAKING HIM ENDURE THIS BECAUSE REALLY HE DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW HOW THE BUXOM MAIDS COULD EASILY FEED A SMALL THIRD WORLD NATION AKA THE COULSON NATION.)

Therefore he had decided to risk permitting Skye to throw Jemma a baby shower.

Subject to cancelation. His Mama hadn’t raised an idiot, after all.

* * *

 

Felix turned on his replacement burner cell.   For some reason there were a dozen or so messages, probably from the Staffie Rescue. He’d listen to them later, or not. Maybe he’d just delete them.  The decision postponed as he wasn’t in the mood to get pissed off at that rescue group again, he turned on Jemma’s burner cell and programmed it.  That done, he entered the Jemma Zone after buckling his seatbelt for a possible bumpy ride.

“Hello,” he announced while he opened the door. “How are you? The kids? Four legged and otherwise.”

She made a noise that sounded like a growl, so he pretended that it was Sonya wishing to take a nice long run in the dog run attached to their apartment (Christ, people could truly afford to live like this? While he was relying on the kindness of strangers and the fullness of Jemma’s Iron Womb?!?!?). “Go have fun,” he ordered the fur kids as they ran off to do their doggie business.

“I was thinking that if you were up to it, we could possibly chaperon Jasper and Skye,” he continued. “Jasper keeps asking about her and… really… I thought it would be nice to have some company. I asked Jasper to pick up dinner?”

There. It was the dangerous moment where Jemma’s brilliant mind could go either way. Wasn’t she company enough? Or he was hoping that she’d like to actually see Skye and Jasper act like idiots? Really, it was far better than any reality show as the two of them were just… IDIOTS. Being the Soulless Sarcastic Git that he was, he was waiting for the little Cupids to start flying around them. God knows he was tempted to shoot them both with Clint Barton’s arrows as they were NAUSEATING.

However, the Jasper/Skye dinner was a white lie for the baby shower.

 Jemma was about to attack, when she softly admitted, “Is there time for a shower?”

“I told them seven? So I could vacuum,” he offered.

“Could you help me shower?” Jemma asked.  “Just very awkward.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

And it was worth being soaked by the hand shower to hear Jemma giggle.

* * *

 

It took time to dry off Jemma, get her changed and presentable, so by the time she was mobile, Agent Skye (who refused to acknowledge her last name) was in the living room. Sonya was next to her and gazed adoringly at her.  Skye scratched her little sister, and Felix wondered why he was constantly acquiring strays.

“Hi,” Skye announced. “I was sent ahead to determine if Jemma is up to having a baby shower tonight? If you are, I can have the party assembled in thirty minutes.”

“Dressed like this?” Jemma asked.  Her eyes became Bambified and yes, there were tears in them.  Plus a distinct lip quiver.

“You look fine,” Felix assured her. “Why don’t you sit on the couch? I’ll bring the ottoman over so you can put your feet up?”

“Can you bring a blanket from the bed?” Jemma whispered. “So I can cover the belly?”

“I can pin your hair back in a braid,” offered Skye. “Makeup, too?”

* * *

 

Felix brought out the ottoman, and helped position her legs just so.

“You’ll stay?” Jemma asked. Well, maybe she didn’t ask, she commanded.  Really, she knew that Felix wanted to run for the hills as a gaggle of giggling women would make him uncomfortable.  While he had stepped in to help her during her time of need and rather admiringly so, Jemma knew that he was rather shy about certain things. Really, his horrified expression when the lactation expert had discussed the possibility of her breast feeding the babies (and the demonstration of the breast pumps) had her uncontrollably giggling for days.  She didn’t have much to entertain her these days, so flustering Felix was a high point.

Because, really, Felix, breastfeeding was a natural bodily function. That’s why she had breasts, not just for his carnal enjoyment.

Not that he had ever expressed any erotic desire for them.  No, not her perfectly respectful white knight. 

Though sometimes, after a long exhausting day, his façade would slip and she’d see his _focus_ was completely and utterly on her.  After a rather stressful beginning, Felix had confessed that he had grown increasingly fond of her. As he had hesitantly explained, his feelings had gradually turned romantic, and by extension, had included a sexual attraction which he had assured her that he could just ignore.

Really, that wasn’t very nice, Felix. Points would be deducted for that comment. 

Considering she currently appeared as though she had swallowed three watermelons WHOLE, his interest (which he could ignore!) was rather sweet, but problematic.

Because she couldn’t reciprocate as her nethers were currently off limits to everyone except her doctors.   

Because she was extremely fond of the exasperating git, and in other times, sans weight gain, she would be regularly shagging him.

And yes, there was the ghost of Phil which the two of them had quietly accepted was part of their relationship.

However, her online support system had stressed the need to not neglect’s one partner during one’s pregnancy, so she tried to give him physical affection. After two years of celibacy? He certainly deserved affection, but he usually refused, out of a misguided belief that he needed to reciprocate. Like she had any desire to have a penis near her vagina as looked what happened LAST TIME! However, she did commando raids when he was less likely to protest. Plus in the afterglow, he always cuddled and kissed her hair and face which was quite … sweet.  Hopefully, one day she could train him into giving her a real kiss.

“I was thinking of heading out with Jasper,” he admitted. “Give you some girl time.”

“Please, stay,” Jemma requested.  She patted the couch next to her. “Sit next to me, please? I’d like you to stay?”

She added a lip quiver, and big Bambi eyes, so he capitulated. Naturally.

“Arm around me, Felix,” she ordered.

* * *

 

Halfway through the baby shower, Jemma wilted like the delicate flower that she was. She put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes in defeat. Fortunately they were during an intermission of gift opening, so the cake was being dispersed. And what a cake it was, as someone (Fitz?) had ordered a two layer cake with three baby monkeys as cake toppers.  He had no idea who had ordered it, as he had given Skye a great deal of cash and informed her that receipts would be itemized and required.

“Tired?”  he murmured.

“So many presents,” she protested. “We’re very lucky to have such good friends, but so many presents.”

“Do you want me to put you to bed?” Felix asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t want them staring at the belly.”

“I’ll tell them to leave after the cake is done,” he decided. “Skye?”

His assistant popped over to the couch, and naturally Jasper was right next to her.  The two of them needed to get a hotel room or something because he felt like he was literally drowning in Tru Luv, Cupids, puppy dogs and cupcakes when he spoke to them. 

“Jemma’s wilting. Apologize but tell them that they need to clear out in fifteen minutes,” ordered Felix.

 “She does look tired,” Jasper inserted before Skye could open her mouth. “We’ll get them out.”

“Thanks.”

That done, Felix pondered deep thinky thoughts such as the safety of Tony Starks’ triplet swing that swung in a conical pendulum, until he was interrupted by Jemma.

“So what did you get me?” she tiredly prompted. “I’ll open that next.”

“I paid for the party and that cake,” he protested. “Though I didn’t ask for monkeys. Blame Fitz for that.”

“I want something from you,” she explained. “And don’t worry, it doesn’t involved breast pumps.”

“Thank God!” Felix exclaimed. “So what do you want from me? I don’t think I can complete with the three onesies with barcoding on them. ‘1 of 3, 2 of 3, 3 or 3’ is pretty funny.”

“I want a real kiss,” she requested. “On my lips and lots of tongue. Please.”

He couldn’t answer as he collected his thoughts. Finally, after long consideration, he permitted himself to fall in love with Simmons, because an integral part of him had been balking and holding onto sanity for all its worth. For obvious reasons (Phil), and not so obvious reasons (His really lousy track record where his heart had been shattered multiple times when the Soul Mate had arrived and he had been kicked to curb) he hadn’t permitted himself to hope that his feelings for Jemma were reciprocated. Yes, she did insist on giving him the occasional hand job, but he had chalked it up to a sense of obligation tinged with pity.

“Not here,” he whispered. “When I put you to bed, I’ll give you a proper kiss or three then.”

“Good and I want something else from you,” she requested. “I want to get married. If something happens to me, I want you to have custody and guardianship of the babies. I don’t want my family getting them, because my childhood was pretty bad. My father focused on academia to the expense of a happy childhood. I couldn’t have a puppy, I couldn’t take music lessons, I just had tutors and schools. ”

“You never mention your family,” he admitted. “I assumed that they were dead.”

“Mum, Dad, and my brother and sister are alive. They hated Phil, so after Phil and I Bonded, I just ceased talking to them. They don’t know he died, they don’t know about the babies, but I don’t want them getting their hands on them.  I want my children… our children to have puppies and Captain America comics in their lives. What do you say? Do you have any better offers?”

He thought about it, and nodded his head.

“I am quite fond of you,” she admitted. “I think it could develop into more. I would wait, but I’m scared about the babies.”

“Jasper can marry us, he’s licensed as a minister in the church of Pastafarianism. He had an undercover assignment and he needed to be a licensed minister.”

“Rastafarianism?” Jemma repeated.

“Pastafarianism.  Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. We just need the forms, and…”

“I’ve got them! Skye picked them up for me,” Jemma confessed.  “Plus I confess the idea of one day informing my parents that I was wedded by a Pastafarian minister is quite amusing.”

“We can ask Jasper to officiate tonight. We had a pasta dish, fortunately. Jasper?”

Jasper Sitwell managed to disengage himself from his Soul Mate and he concentrated intently on their request. He asked a few important questions, “What the hell?” and “Are you drunk, Felix?” After hearing their explanations, he did agree to marry them.

“You got your forms? We can do it here and now,” Jasper easily agreed.  “Then we can have another round of cake, and go on our way.”

Felix leaned forward and in his best _Don’t You Think of Fucking with Me_ voice, he stated, “And there will be no talking like a pirate, do you understand?”

“Aye, matey,” Jasper agreed.

“And you will NOT wear the ceremonial colander,” Felix continued. “Nor wave the stainless steel pasta scoop in holy benediction.”

“You are seriously taking all the fun out of this. Can I at least sprinkle you with Parmesan cheese?” Jasper questioned, as he was a romantic at heart.

“Are you planning on vacuuming?” was Felix’s retort.

* * *

 

"I solemnly swear to center my marriage on the Holy Pasta, making sure to enrich our lives and our diets with plentiful carbs, and we will give thanks together, in love, for every pasta dinner that his Noodly Appendage has blessed for us,” Felix intoned. Then when a delicate gesture, he fed Jemma a spoonful of Mac n’ Cheese. Because he was an adult, and respected wedding traditions and all they symbolized, even if they were really stupid like being blessed by the Holy Ptasta. Unlike Simmons who had been feeling sassy, so she had tried to smear him with it.

Pepper sniffled loudly, and Fitz wiped his eyes with a plaid handkerchief.  Meanwhile Skye dreamed thoughts of her own ceremony with Jasper and she vowed there would be no spaghetti at the ceremony.

“I now pronounce you married by the power vested in me by the state of New York,” Jasper announced.  “You can now kiss the bride.”

“Make it a good one, Felix,” Jemma ordered and therefore, Felix did.

* * *

After everyone left and the hyper fur kids were put to bed repeatedly, Blake escorted Jemma to the bedroom.

“I’m afraid that I can’t carry you over the threshold,” he teased.

“I outweigh you now,” she admitted.

“Even before that, I couldn’t carry you over,” he admitted. “Let’s put you to bed and I have something for you.”

“Another kiss I hope,” she prompted. “I wish I could give you a proper wedding night.”

“No, I have my parent’s Bonding Rings. I hope you can fit my mom’s ring,” he admitted. “If you don’t mind wearing hers? My parents met when they were six and they were very happy together. There’s good karma associated with the rings.”

“No, I’d like that,” she admitted as she began to tug at Phil’s ring.  He took her hand, and kissed her ring finger.

“I also want you to keep wearing Phil’s ring,” he requested.  “Now to bed.”

“I want to cuddle,” she informed him.

He nodded.

* * *

 

Jemma was asleep when he returned to their bed. He gave her a kiss on her cheek and reclined into a comfortable position.  It had been an eventful day, and tomorrow he’d listen to the cell phone messages. For now, he wanted to fall asleep next to Jemma.  He never thought that he’d be this happy, to be married… to have a family…  to be with someone where he didn’t have to fear about a Soul Mate appearing in his life.

And while he still missed Phil dreadfully and he still loved Phil as much as he ever had, hopefully he had Phil’s blessings.

If he did, Felix Blake was the luckiest man ever.

**"At Last"**   


_At last_  
 _My love has come along_  
 _My lonely days are over_  
 _And life is like a song_  
  
 _Oh yeah yeah_  
 _At last_  
  
 _The skies above are blue_  
 _My heart was wrapped up in clover_  
 _The night I looked at you_  
  
 _I found a dream, that I could speak to_  
 _A dream that I can call my own_  
 _I found a thrill to press my cheek to_  
 _A thrill that I have never known_  
  
 _Oh yeah yeah_  
 _You smiled, you smiled_  
 _Oh and then the spell was cast_  
 _And here we are in heaven_  
 _for you are mine..._  
  
At Last - Etta James

 


	20. Bleed to Love Her

When Jemma woke the next morning, she realized that Felix was watching her. He was resting on his side and just intently watching her. He broke into a warm smile when he realized she was awake.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered after he gave her a proper kiss. His breath was minty, which meant he had been up, taken the fur kids for a run, brushed his teeth and had decided to watch her for however long. “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I slept so much better knowing if anything happens…”

“Nothing’s happening to you. I won’t permit it,” he stated.  He took his index finger, and he stroked her face with a gentleness that shouldn’t have surprised her, but still it did.  Maybe because she is still getting comfortable with the idea that Felix has decided that he can be Felix with her. He doesn’t have to be the problem-solving Blake, not long suffering Agent Blake, but _Felix - I loved Coulson so much it fucking destroyed me when he found you. Because I was completely alone_. “I decided to play hooky today, so… we can do nothing all day. Or I can try to set up the nursery.”

“I like doing nothing with you,” she murmured.

In response, he took both her hands and kissed them. He smiled as he admired his mother’s ring on her right hand.  It was a simple silver ring, originally bought with the sincere promise of acquiring something better when the young couple was ‘established’ but as Felix explained, his mother had refused his father’s valiant attempts at replacing the ring.  

His smile, his real smile, was unlike anything she’s seen. Oh, she’s seen the half-smile, the bemused smile, the _My Good God, Is Everyone CRAZY except for ME?_ smile, and the painful grimace most believe is the closest that Blake will ever get to a real smile, but never his real smile.  He has laugh lines and his eyes are crinkled.

And with the scruff and the bedhead hair, he’s cute.

He’s also fairly mechanical. Not in Fitz’s league, but enough so that he could set up the nursery with only one or two obscenities as Sonya and Nekko insisted on helping. Their help consisted of their big black noses getting into everything and sitting on the instructions which caused Felix to order them out of the room. She’s content to sit in the glider and instruct him on where to place everything.

Jemma won’t permit herself to compare him to Phil, but she does wonder about their relationship.  How they met, how Phil managed to wear Felix down into permitting a relationship and well, she also wondered _who topped_. It must have been deliciously intense with the two of them being the stereotypical Alpha Males. She placed the blame for her racy thoughts on the fact that it had been seven months of dreary celibacy combined with being a hormonal pendulum.

“I’m worried about that dreamy smile. It doesn’t look like ‘I’m seeing babies playing with pit bull puppies’,” Felix announced after she had a particularly lovely day dream of her boys.  “Should I ask?”

She blushed which caused Felix to smile.

“Is it naughty?”  He barked a laugh as she hid her face behind her hands.  “Come on, come on, spill.”

“I was wondering….” She paused before she blurted, “About sex.”

His smile is bemused, and his eyes are laughing.

“About us? You take as much time as you need after the babies arrive. You let me know when and if you want to take that step, I won’t force you into it,” he assured her.

He brushed her hair away from her face and she noticed how his father’s ring gleamed in the bright nursery.  Felix was a romantic, hard core romantic with a strong sentimental streak, she realized anew.  He had kept his parents’ Bonding Rings, just in case, because he never gave up hoping that he’d find the other half of his Soul.  Jemma knows that she isn’t Felix’s Soul Mate. That had been Phil… and they had both loved him. Now that Phil was gone, his two grieving lovers had come together to build something out of the ashes.

Something… delicate and fragile, but still profound. She has to be incredibly careful with Felix as she doesn’t want to accidentally wound him.

“You’re not thinking about **_us_**. Are you?” He asked.

“It’s hard to think sexy thoughts about yourself when you’re a poster child for unprotected sex,” she admitted. “I was actually thinking about you and Phil.”

For her honesty, she rewarded with an honest to God blushing Felix.

“What do you want to know?” he finally managed to ask when he had composed himself.

“Logistics?” she asked.

He looked at her as though she sprouted three heads, besides budding three babies. After far too long, she was rewarded with a very shy half-smile.

“I fell in love first,” he admitted. “We were teamed together, I was coming out of another bad breakup and he was Phil.  Phil being… Phil made it very easy for us to become friends. Good friends… and… I do have a horrible habit of friendship first and then the romantic attraction starts.  I was head over heels for him, but … I was very confused … because… up until then, I was heterosexual. Naturally, I suppressed my feelings as I’m really good at that. Make a mental note.”

“Already have it highlighted,” she quipped which caused another half-smile.  When he failed to continue with his story, she gently poked him, “And… and?”

“On a mission, went to directly to hell, didn’t pass Go, didn’t collect $200. It was bad… and…afterwards, in our mutual grief, I let him seduce me.  I didn’t dare to get really attached; afterwards he thought I was being a cock tease… so we kept it as just recreational sex…  For me, it wasn’t… but I didn’t want him to know because… I figured… keep it light… keep it fun… keep the sex screaming.”

He wiggled his eyebrows and she blushed. Another long bout of silence, and then Jemma prompted him, with, “Obviously, it changed.”

“Got hit by a car.  He decided to move into my apartment, and he took care of me. I really thought he was ‘The One’ even though I wasn’t Marked, I mean…even though the tests … I spent so much money on those tests. I never told Phil that I sat for the exam three times. However, the results were the same – Alas, poor Yorick, you are Soulless.”

“I loathe that term,” she protested.

“I am, what I am. Anyway, I was pretty fucked up mentally, emotionally, physically and in spite of that, he stayed.” He pointed at his neck. “Broke my neck, became the pencil pushing, monitor loving desk jockey I am today.”

“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?” she asked. She’s talking about the move from Field Agent to Desk Jockey.

“Yes,” Blake deliberately misunderstood as he pointed at his neck. “Sometimes it twinges.”

“Well, I think after spending four hours putting together the nursery you deserve a back rub,” she offered in what could only be described as a coquettish tone. “Let’s go to bed and I can rub your… back.”

“Don’t overexert yourself,” he warned.

“Promise.”

* * *

 

Jemma glared when he insisted on taking a shower.  An honest to God scowl which is rather amusing, as it’s about as threatening as a Koala Bear Death Glare.  

“A hot shower will loosen my neck muscle so they’ll be pliable,” he explained. “No exertion, remember?”

“Hurry,” she insisted. “I have a line of men wanting their necks rubbed.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t give away my spot,” he ordered.

Her resulting face of severe displeasure made him want to laugh. However, he’s smart enough not to do so, but she noticed his smile.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she murmured.

“I’m not, I’m just giddy,” he protested as he unsuccessfully tried to explain how he felt, how his life has done a complete 180 in the last day. “Giddy and happy. You make me smile, be happy with that. Please.”

He’s still smiling when he returned back to the bed to discover that Jemma is asleep. She is cocooned in her various body pillows and yes, the fur kids are asleep next to her.  Fortunately, there’s enough room for him in the bed, still, so he is not sent to the couch. It’s a bit early for a nap, so he decided to check his voice mail on his various phones.

His good mood, (dare he say, bubbly, giddy, drunk?) survives the various phone calls regarding his marriage. Victoria Hand’s well-meant but still rude message of quasi congratulations and a suggestion for a psych eval can’t deflate his mood.  However, those thirteen messages on his burner cell nagged him until he decides to listen to them. It would be easier just to delete them, but… really, everything is so right in his world that nothing could destroy his mood.

After listening to the first message, Felix realized how utterly wrong he was.   He’s pissed off the Goddess of Soul Mates, Fate or whomever it is, because… because…  it’s PHIL COULSON’S VOICE ON HIS CELL PHONE.

**_“Hi. I need help.”_ **

Fucking hell. That was PHIL… and the message’s timestamp was AFTER his funeral. What the hell was Garrett playing at? But each phone message made him increasingly uneasy, because “Phil” was utilizing their secret code words – including Miguel’s rotten avocados.

**_“Hey, it’s me. I don’t remember…. what happened…just bits and pieces… but please don’t be dead. Please. I’m hoping… that I pissed you off really, really bad… that’s why you haven’t called me back.  The apartment’s gone… and... I can’t find your name on any of the lists… but… please, don’t be dead. I don’t know who I can trust… except for you.”_ **

Who can Felix Blake trust with this information? ‘Phil’ has given him a clue. _Rotten Avocados_ \- Phil isn’t sure who to trust in the organization, except for him.

The rational side of his brain plans. Go to the grave, use a sonar to confirm that there is a body in the coffin. If there isn’t, Plan A - call the phone number which…. Vaguely looks like one of Phil’s old burner cells. Arrange a meeting, and bring weapons.

If there is a body, still call the cell phone and arrange a meeting. Plan B would require backup (Jasper???!!?) and additional firearms.

The right side of his brain, the emotional side, has ramped into a near frenzy about how he is about to lose everything he’s ever wanted, because he doesn’t deserve it, as he’s fucking SOULLESS.

His mind is still engaged, the sides arguing between themselves, when Jemma Simmons deliberately slipped her hand beneath his waistband.

“Let me relax you,” she whispered.  “Let me take care of you.”

 

 _Somebody's got to see this through_  
All the world is laughing at you   
And somebody's got to sacrifice   
If this whole thing's gonna turn out right

 _Ooh, I would bleed to love her_  
Ooh, bleed to love her   
Ooh, I would bleed to love her   
Bleed to love her   
Bleed to love her

_Bleed to Love Her – Fleetwood Mac_

 


	21. Going Home

“It wasn’t good for you?” Jemma murmured afterwards. Tonight, Jemma was particularly chatty, while Felix was content to bask in the afterglow while he stroked her hair.

“It was amazing,” Felix assured her.  “I’d give you a standing ovation but I’m completely blissed out.”

“I tried something different, and you didn’t like it,” she admitted as she turned towards him. She was absolutely adorable, even with her crinkled nose of disapproval. “You’re usually **_much_ ** louder.”

“You were feeling playful and it was absolutely mind-blowing,” he insisted. “Didn’t want to wake the babies by screaming ‘Hallelujah’.”

Instead of believing him, she just stared at him with her Big Bambi Eyes.   He couldn’t confide the reason behind his less than screaming response.  While one part of his lizard brain was only able to mutter, ‘Omigod’ repeatedly while Jemma had teased him, his rational part of brain had debated and enumerated the many reasons why he couldn’t tell her, ‘I think Phil’s alive’.  The number one reason was that the babies needed to be in the oven for another seven weeks for optimal baking time and to keep them out of NICU.  Part of the game plan for keeping the kids cooking for the thirty six weeks was to keep Jemma calm and composed.  This news, especially unsubstantiated, might very well push her into preterm labor.

His answer displeased her, so he added a truthful, “And honestly, I just couldn’t help but think how much I wanted to reciprocate. I wish I could do more than massage your back and feet, and the occasional stolen kiss.”

It was the truth, but not the complete truth.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong,” she decided. “You would, so spill. What is the problem?”

The best lie always had a dollop of truth in it, Nick Fury had always insisted.  

“I’m thinking about Phil. Not this way,” he insisted. “But… how because of New York… How if it hadn’t happen, this would be his life. I’d be alone and he’d have everything. Seems sad that a hero doesn’t get the happy ending he deserves.”

“Yes, it is sad,” she murmured.  “For both my heroes. However, if Phil was alive, you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I’d have the fur kids,” Blake softly admitted.

“No, you’d have Phil and me. I’d force Phil to keep you prisoner until you agreed to stay.”

“Is that legal?” asked Blake.

“Yes, because we’d be doing it for your own good.  You’d never have to worry about being alone again, and I’d be content to sleep between you two so I could be adored.” That decided, Jemma yawned. “Tell me a bedtime story. Make it a naughty one about what you’d do to me if you only could.”

“I’d kiss you,” he murmured.

“Seriously?”

Really, he was quite the kisser; he had been assured REPEATEDLY of that fact. No reason to sound disappointed.

“I’m … old… I need to start off slowly,” he explained.  “However, instead of making you listen to several hours of flirtations and foreplay, let’s try fiction. Once upon a time, there was this brilliant, brave, beautiful biochemist.”

“OWWWW!” He exclaimed in true pain when she poked him.  “Apparently I have to remind you of the mandatory disclaimer. Characters involved in this fictitious story may or may not be based on people you may or may not know. Anyway this utterly bodacious babe… whose name is… Gemma with a G… decided she wished to have a night of fun. Good so far?”

“Lovely,” she admitted even as her breathing deepened.

“She was smoking, as she has this cute little sweater and jeans outfit that she really wore quite well.”

“Can’t Gemma be sexy?” protested Jemma. “Sweaters aren’t sexy.”

“But she is, because she’s the sweet sexy, not the slutty sexy, or the I’m know I’m hot sexy, but the sweet sexy,” explained Felix. “So she is sexy, as her jeans hug her curves and the sweater hides enough to make men wonder.”

“I hope I can wear those jeans in a few months,” protested Jemma. “I hope she has a cute black leather jacket to pull the outfit all together.”

“Her friend Rainbow…” which caused Jemma to giggle. “Rainbow created a rather complex computer algorithm and she decided that the best place for Gemma with a G to meet her perfect man is at …”

He paused, and Jemma with a J threatened to poke him again.

“At the dog park. She decided to buy herself a hot dog from a vendor and she strolled about the dog park, little realizing how tempting she and her hotdog were to the various dogs in the park. By that, I mean the four legged, not the two legged. To her horror, she was unexpectedly surrounded by a pack of ankle biters – a literal horde of Dachshunds that have escaped from their inexperienced dog walker and decided they want lunch. Our heroine, Gemma with a G, is quite worried. Not only about her safety, but that perhaps Rainbow has perhaps inverted the inverse in her algorithm and she is actually at the WORST place to meet the perfect man. At that very moment, he might very well be at the tea shoppe having a cuppa, and they would never ever meet.”

“This is not a sexy bedtime story,” snarked Jemma.

“Patience, grasshopper.”

“I’ll patience you,” was her retort.

“Fortunately, a big goofy Staffie decided to intervene by bringing her brother and pet to the party. Through her scary, though utterly harmless, size, she scared the little ankle biters into retreating. That not enough, and she and her little brother wrapped their leashes around Gemma with a G and their pet. It’s rather awkward as their pet had them on an extra-long two dog leash. Gemma found herself leaning on him, rather intimately, for a man that she’s never met. ”

“Is this name of the pet, Alix with an A?” Jemma prompted.

“You’ve heard this story before! Anyway, the hot dog was dropped during the scuffle and it was completely inedible. Being a gentleman, Alix offered to buy her a new hot dog. Our heroine says…”

“That’s not the meat I’m interested in, I’m shagging you into your mattress in sheer gratitude,” Jemma inserted.

“JEMMA! This isn’t that type of story,” he protested.  “He offered to take her to the local pharmacy and buy her first aid ointment for any possible rope burns.”

“Which they can’t enter because he has his dogs.  Instead, she takes him to her apartment, introduces him to her three small babies, and offers to have one with him in a few years.”

Blake blinked.

“I think your sexiest look is when you’re all befuddled,” she admitted. “Makes you look human.”

His mouth was moving but he wasn’t able to …. Words... sentences… put together… coherently.

“I was thinking today that maybe in a few years, you and I could try for our own baby,” she admitted. “Maybe, I’m being a bit too optimistic, as I may never want to have sex again after I evict the current occupants from my womb, but I think four children would be nice round number. Though I’d require medical intervention to confirm only one baby because like bloody hell am I doing multiples again.”

He still wasn’t able to make a coherent sentence and Jemma snuggled next to him.  She fell asleep almost immediately while Felix Blake stared at the ceiling and cursed. The decision had been made, like there was any other decision? He’d send a message to ‘PHIL’ to meet at the dog park. He’d bring the dogs with him and… they’d know if it was Phil or not.  No matter how realistic a LMD was and how many people were fooled – dogs always knew that the LMDs weren’t the real deal.   

* * *

* * *

 

Phil turned on his phone, certain that there wouldn’t be any contact from Felix and to his surprise, he had a voice mail. Hesitantly, he dialed it and he heard a very familiar voice, “Dog park, six tonight.” Felix had finally called, which meant Felix… FELIX…. FELIX WAS ALIVE…

Thank God, Felix was alive.

Though, which dog park?

* * *

 

“Kids need a run,” Felix informed Jemma before he left their apartment to meet ‘Phil’. “You take it easy, and you don’t do anything stupid.”

He wore his concealed weapon under his running jacket, just in case. Though, as his subconscious reminded him, if he was that concerned that it was a setup, he shouldn’t leave Jemma. No, instead he should get the sonar and go the grave first, but… Felix Blake had no doubt that Phil Coulson’s coffin was occupied. If not by Phil, then by an LMD that had gone terribly, terribly wrong. The LMD had been put in the freezer for a moment such as this when a corpse was needed, had been defrosted and stuffed into Phil’s coffin. Meanwhile, his conscience was shaking its head and telling him that it was imperative to investigate.

“Promise,” she assured him. “Just reading the latest in the _Journal of BioChem_.”

“Call me if you need me,” Felix requested.

For his justifiable concern, Jemma stuck her tongue at him. She was sitting on the couch, and she had her phone next to her. Her countenance was pale, paler than he liked. However, tomorrow, the weather promised to be fair, so he might be able to convince her to sit on the balcony for some Vitamin D therapy.

If there was a tomorrow with Jemma, his subconscious reminded him.

“None of your cheek,” he growled.

“At least I’m converting you to proper English,” she chirped which made him smile.

* * *

 

Phil Coulson had showered, had held a long inner debate on what he should wear and had decided that he shouldn’t shave his beard.  He wore a Yankees cap (Forgive him, Boston, it was imperative that he appear unlike Phil as possible) and he had put in his colored contacts that made his eyes a non-descript brown. And yes, he came armed.

He was missing chunks of his memory, but after hearing Felix’s voice, hearing how flat it sounded, how detached… was it possible that Felix was part of the conspiracy? The memories of him on the table, begging for death floated to the forefront of his mind.  No, no, Felix wouldn’t have made him endure that crescendoing amount of agony, the pleading for death.

No, Felix would have pulled the trigger even while Phil thanked him.

He had enough time to walk to the park.

Hopefully, he had the right one.

* * *

 

The fur kids had picked up on his unease, as Sonya, normally placid and easygoing, literally bounded as they strode to the dog park.  Nekko, customarily the pacesetter, had difficulties matching Sonya’s long strides.

“Behave,” he snapped at Sonya. “You’re setting a bad example for your brethren.”

The Staffie received the message, behaved for all of a minute before she started her ground eating pace once more.

She seemingly settled once they reached the dog park, as she was content to browse and sniff so she could send and receive her pee-mail. Nekko vainly struggled to match her output, but came up empty rather quickly.  It didn’t stop his noble efforts to match his big sister’s pee mail outbox.   The dogs held their Battle of the Bladder, Felix scanned the park for … Phil… and strange dogs when he noticed a particularly nefarious dog who had been banned earlier in the year.  Didn’t the Silky Terrier’s owner realize that he had been banned for GOOD REASON?

Felix took a step to the left in order to confirm that it was the same dog when the fur kids decided to take a flying leap to the right. Idiots nearly dislocated his shoulder as they ran for all they were worth towards a bearded bum in a Yankees cap.

“No, no, no,” Felix protested as the dogs began to leap about in literal paroxysms of doggie joy. “Sonya! Down! Down!”

The bum looked up at Felix and when their eyes met…. The bum’s face showed evident relief.

“I know you,” the bum… no… Phil Coulson stated. “ ** _I know you_**.”

 

 _Going home, going home, I'm just going home._  
Quiet-like, slip away- I'll be going home.   
It's not far, just close by;

_Going Home – Anton Dvorak-William Arms Fisher and Ken Bible_

 

 


	22. Something Must Have Happened

 

_I guess something must have happened_   
_And we must have said goodbye_   
_And my heart must have been broken_   
_Though I can't recall just why . . ._

_Trisha Yearwood – The Song Remembers When_

_“I know you.”_

Felix Blake felt as though God had decided to kick him hard in ‘nads as punishment for wanting too much. Unlike Icarus, he wouldn’t fall to his death in the Icarian Sea, no Felix Blake would be relegated to the sidelines and enviously watch the happy family.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” joked Phil.  His appearance was gaunt, and he looked nervously back and forth as though waiting to be attacked… or captured. Yet the way Nekko and Sonya was acting…. as though Santa Paws had come early and given them a lifetime supply of squeaky toys and braided bully sticks, **_THIS WAS PHIL_**. Not a clone, not an LMD, but PHIL.

How? **_HOW_**? HOW was this happening?  No, no, no. He needed to be in control of his emotions. It was happening, it was time to focus on the situation.

“We need some place to talk,” Felix stated in his best Agent Felix Blake voice. “Some place private.”

Phil blinked once, twice, three times and then he pointed at Felix’s hand. “You’re wearing your father’s ring. I finally wore you down and we decided to get hitched? What’s with the voice? You want to play agent? Are you interrogating me in public, you dirty dog?”

With a final pat on Sonya’s head and a good scratch behind Nekko’s ear, Phil stood and smiled. The wariness was gone from his body, instead he was exceptionally happy as Felix was alive and standing in front of him.  And they were playing **_Field Agent and Bad Guy_** which was a lot of fun.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Felix. I’ve been thinking about you night and day since I woke.”

His smile faded as he realized that Felix Blake was still just staring at him.  He had not moved to embrace Phil, and Phil Coulson was in dire need of a hug.

“Phil, what do you remember?” Felix intently questioned, as he motioned for Phil to follow him.

“I remember being stabbed. The next thing I knew was they were hurting me,” Phil admitted. “I begged him to stop but…”

“Who?” Felix asked.

“Nick.”  Phil’s voice was barely above a low whisper.

Fortunately, he wasn’t required to respond as Felix’s phone sounded just then. He motioned for Phil to be quiet. “Hey? What’s up?”

He listened for a moment and then he spoke. His voice was quite warm and tender. “Don’t panic. I will call an ambulance and I will be there in five minutes. This is probably nothing, but I will be there. Let me make the phone call and I will then call you back. Promise.”

After saying goodbye, Felix explained to Phil. “I have to call you tomorrow. Promise. I need to take care of this emergency first.”

To say Phil was confused, was an understatement.

“I…” he began.

“I have to call you tomorrow. I need to take care of this first. Promise. I have to take Jemma to the hospital,” Felix explained. His tone was calm and poised which meant that Felix Blake was keeping it together with duct tape and a staple gun.

“Who’s Jemma?” Phil asked.

“Phil, you trust me?”  Felix asked. His voice had gone down an octave, which meant Felix was close to cracking.

“Yes.”

“Then shut up,” growled Felix. “I need to call an ambulance.  A lot happened in the last two years, so let me handle it, like I have been.”

“I’ve been gone for two years?”  Phil asked.

“No, you met your soul mate, Phil, about two years ago. You must have severe memory loss, if you don’t know Jemma… and you’re acting like we’re still together.”

“We’re not?” Phil whispered. “What happened?”

“Hello, I need an ambulance to the following address.” Felix rambled off the information.

Phil didn’t meant to eavesdrop but, “Twenty six year old female, thirty weeks pregnant, high risk pregnancy,” and Felix’s ring made his jaw drop.

“You found your soul mate,” he whispered after Felix repeated the information. “You’re going to be a father? I’m so happy for you.”

He was, but he **_wasn’t_**. His mind was reeling.

“No, Phil, I didn’t,” Felix stated. “I’m Soulless, like I always was. I picked up the pieces when you died. Jemma’s your Soul Mate and she’s pregnant, and I can’t let her know that you’re alive because she has a very high risk pregnancy.  I don’t want to do **_anything_** that might cause her to go into preterm labor, and I think announcing to her that you’ll alive, would do it.  The babies need more time in vivo. Now I have to call her. So **_shut up_**. She’ll be pissed when she realizes what I’m doing but the health of Jemma and the babies are the priority right now. ”

“Babies?” Phil repeated. “I’m going to be a father?”

Felix Blake made a gesture that suggested Phil better shut up or risk getting his throat slashed.

“Hi, I’m coming home. I call the ambulance and I will talk to you until I get home to you. Now, I want you to relax and take a deep breath. Hold it…… hold it and slowly exhale,” Felix instructed.

Felix left at a quick pace while Phil was left behind.

Not for long however.

* * *

 

Felix found Jemma sitting on the couch. He put the kids in ‘time out’ aka the bedroom as there would be strangers coming into the apartment soon. Jemma was struggling to be brave, but she clutched his arm with a grip that strength that belied her fragile frame. Seriously, she was cutting off his blood supply to his arm.

“What’s happening?” he asked as he crouched near her. He stroked her face with the one hand that still had possessed a pulse.

“I felt pressure and…I called the doctor. She wants me in the hospital immediately,” she explained. “It’s probably nothing.”

He nodded his head in agreement.

“I’ll ride along with you in the ambulance,” he promised.

“No, you bring the truck, that way when I go home tonight, we can leave immediately, instead of waiting for you to go home and bring the truck to the hospital,” she decided. In a firm voice, she stated, “I’m coming home tonight, and we can snuggle.”

And Felix wisely didn’t comment on how Jemma seemed determined to convince herself.

“Sounds lovely,” he agreed. “And I’ll give you a long back rub.”

* * *

 

A rational Jemma accepted that she was lying, not to herself, but to Felix. She knew that she wasn’t going home tonight but she didn’t want him to feel guilty about taking the fur kids for a run.  The paramedics arrived and quickly bundled her into the stretcher. They had problems loading her into the stretcher and Felix stepped up to help. Fortunately a bystander pushed him out of the way and helped load her into the ambulance.

The stranger with stooped shoulders wore a leather coat, a Yankees cap, and dark glasses. He looked rather ratty as he wore a messy beard that needed a trim but he apparently knew Felix and his back troubles. He looked… familiar… but then the babies kicked and she hissed.

“Jemma?” Felix asked.

“Maybe you can actually stay with me as opposed to driving the car down?” She asked. “I’m scared.”

Being very well trained, Felix immediately agreed, but he was stopped by the stranger who held out his hands. Felix stared at him for a long moment and then handed him the keys to his car with a growled, “No scratches. Throw the keys in the trunk and lock it”.  The stranger nodded his head once and literally disappeared in an eye blink.

“Who was that?” Jemma asked.

“Someone I know from the pit bull rescue group,” Felix admitted. “I believe I can trust him with my car. He’ll take a train back his apartment.”

“I’m really scared,” she admitted. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’ve done everything you’re supposed to do. You and the kids will be fine. Promise,” he repeated. “Deep, slow breathing, remember?”

* * *

 

The hospital was controlled chaos, with various specialists popping in and out. There were ultrasounds and pelvics, assorted means of torture, and it was decided that Jemma was staying overnight for observation.  Felix stayed by her side, and then they had a moment alone.

“Felix, I want you to go home so you can get some sleep,” she ordered. “I’m staying tonight, and I probably won’t be home for a while. I’ll write up a list of the items I want you to bring from home. Please leave your sweatshirt? I want to wear it… well drape it over my shoulders… so I know that I’m not alone.”

“I don’t want to leave you and the babies,” he protested. “Baby B needs some encouragement. I’ll talk to her and remind her that she needs to grow. She’s getting smooshed by her brother and sister.”

“We may have to talk about having an early C- section if she doesn’t listen to you,” Jemma confided.

Felix placed his hand on her belly, and leaned towards it. “Hey, Baby B, I want to let you know a secret just between us.  Don’t tell your mom or your siblings, but I love you more than your brother and sister. I can’t wait to meet you, but… don’t come early. Keep growing, ok?”

A teary-eyed Jemma smiled at Felix and then mussed up his hair.

“What is it with you messing up my hair?” he mocked protested.

“Better,” she announced. “I like your hair messy. So does Baby B. Now leave your sweatshirt and go home. Please? Our other children need their daddy.”

“Call me if you need anything,” he requested.

“Will do,” she promised.

* * *

 

Regretfully, he left Jemma and walked towards the parking lot.  He wasn’t surprised to see someone sitting in his passenger seat.

“I couldn’t leave, and you know damn well that if the roles were reversed, you’d be in the passenger seat, so don’t tell me otherwise” Phil informed Blake. “And if she was going home tonight, you would have pulled the truck up to the lobby, instead of making her walk out to the parking lot. That’s why I stayed here. How is she? How are the babies?”

“I don’t think she’ll leave the hospital until she has her C-section,” admitted Felix. “The only question is when is she having it? Baby B isn’t gaining weight, not like her sister and brother. It might be the Aquarium Syndrome where there just isn’t any more room for the babies to grow.”

“Sister and Brother and Baby B makes… THREE?” Phil loudly proclaimed. “Did we do in vitro?”

“Congratulations Phil, it was all natural. You’ve got a fire hose in your pants,” snarked Blake. “Where are you living?”

“In an illegal walk up,” admitted Phil. “It’s in a very bad section of town, but… it’s cheap.”

“Tonight, you’re coming home with me. Tomorrow, you move into the apartment,” Felix decided. “You and I need to figure out how to handle this mess. You have a thousand questions, I’m sure. I just want to answer them in a safe environment.”

Silence as Felix started the truck and began the drive back to his apartment.

“How long have you been in love with her?”  Phil quietly asked. His voice was free from condemnation; he was matter of fact. “I remember well that tone you used with her on the phone. You used to talk to me like that.”

“After you were declared dead, I kept an eye on her. She discovered she was pregnant and… I… was helping her… and you know how I am. Friends first and then… I fall in love. I’m sorry,” Felix stated. “I’m just so sorry, Phil.”

* * *

 

Jemma rested on her side, like the dutiful incubator she was. She couldn’t sleep as she was missing her body pillows and having Felix next to her.  Her insomnia gave her plenty of time to think deep thoughts, such as pondering what was bothering Felix Blake. He was rattled about something; however it wasn’t just about her and the babies.  He was concerned about them, deeply concerned but there had been a sense of **_more_**.

Her doctor quietly entered the room, and she shook her head in disapproval when she realized Jemma was awake.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked.

Jemma murmured an agreement.

“Should I leave?”

“No, it’s nice not to be alone, though I’m not really alone. However the babies aren’t much in the way of conversationalists. They just whinge about wanting more room,” Jemma admitted with a tired laugh.

“Do you want to talk?”

When Jemma nodded, the doctor smiled. “I have to admit that I’m rather curious about your Soul Mark.”

“It’s van Goethe,” explained Jemma.  “Phil was definitely one that saw beauty.”

“I’m actually talking the one on your inner thigh. ‘Don’t be afraid’?”


	23. Man of Constant Sorrow

Jemma asked her doctor to repeat her observation about the Soul Mark. As far as she knew, she only possessed the rambling one from Phil.

“It’s rather new, I noticed it during one of your last exams,” the doctor admitted. “Plus it’s in an odd spot, so I’m sure that’s why you didn’t notice when it appeared.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t mind taking a picture? I’m rather graceless at the moment,” Simmons confessed.  

After a brief struggle, Jemma was staring at her latest Soul Mark (and oh dear, her bum had gotten flabby) and then she smiled, “It’s Felix’s handwriting. I know that intense scrawl anywhere. So I’m Soul Marked by both Felix and Phil. That’s a happy thought because what I’m beginning with Felix is… different than how it was with Phil, but it is still just as significant.”

She giggled, and admitted, “I can’t wait to flash him with it. Though I hope I’m trimmer when I flash him.”

“You’re lucky that Phil’s Soul Mark is there,” Dr. Greenbaum admitted. “You’re the only person I know where it hasn’t faded after their partner passed.”

“I think it’s because of the babies,” Jemma murmured.

However, since she had plenty of time on her hands (Six weeks!), she’d research the issue.

* * *

 

“You’ve certainly moved up in the world,” Phil snarked once they entered Felix’s apartment. It was palatial… for the lack of a better word.

Felix said not a word, as he turned on the surround sound and began playing _Take 5_ – the extended jam mix. The two dogs raced out of the bedroom and jumped onto the sofa, anxious for their Dad to sit next to them for a comforting cuddle. After Felix sat down, Sonya being the bigger of the two dogs, won the battle for his lap and she began to lick him. Nekko decided that he’d shun Phil for abandoning him and his sister for YEARS…. YEARS… and curled up to Felix. His little dark eyes occasionally looked as Phil as though to say, “Do you feel guilty yet?”

“I was living in a one bedroom apartment, nine hundred square feet as I left you the apartment. There was no place to put the nursery,” Felix admitted in a very flat tone. “I couldn’t afford a large enough apartment plus one that would let me keep Sonya, so I made the decision to put Sonya into rescue. They were absolute fucks, talked at me about abandoning someone who loved me and how I should be ashamed about how I was abandoning her for something better. She isn’t a plant, you know, just to be tossed aside because I wanted a bigger apartment.”

Phil sat as far away from Felix as was possible. Between Felix’s tone of voice and his choice of music, he was in a very dangerous situation. By dangerous, he meant emotionally explosive, because… he had no idea what he had done or how this conversation could go.

“Jemma pulled in a few favors, so here we are. Rent controlled, courtesy of Pepper Potts,” Felix admitted.

“Is it safe?” Phil asked. It was a loaded question and Felix picked up on the subtle nuances of his request.

“I had it swept for Stark’s toys. Asked Agent Romanov to confirm – I’m sure she put a few of hers in, but I’d rather have her eavesdropping than T. Stark,” Blake explained.

“Can I trust her?” Phil asked.  “My mind is completely Swiss Cheesed.”

Swiss cheesed? More like torn asunder.

“Yes, you can,” Felix easily agreed.

“I don’t want Nick knowing that I’m … here… not until I’m steadier,” Phil explained. “Now, can you tell me what happened between us? What went wrong? How long have I been with Jemma? What does she know about us? About what happened to me?”

“Nothing went wrong,” Felix stated. “You two met on site in New Mexico about two year ago, and … Jasper informed me, because you were absolutely besotted.  He thought it would be best if the fatal blow came from a friend. The night you met her, I reached out to you, twice.  To say goodbye, and make a clean break. I was gonna wish you the best. However… you didn’t answer the phone.”

“It wasn’t a clean break, was it?”

“No…  Twenty years and I had to hear about all the gory details from fucking John Garrett and his cronies.  It was a bad break because I completely shut you out of my life. Took the kids and split. Tho’ I did get a better rate on cable when I broke our policy. I dropped the 24 Hour Captain America Channel as I had no need for it.”

Phil’s soft laugh was a mixture of amusement and sadness.

“It was funny, when I met her, you know what she said to me?” Felix softly chuckled. “She asked, ‘I know you’?”

He tapped his left arm.

“I said that to you,” Phil reminded him.

“Twice, but I haven’t developed a Soul Mark. Still one of the Soulless.”

“I hate that term,” was Phil’s retort.

“I ran into her a few times over the years. Kept an eye on her, got her out of a few speeding tickets,” Felix stated. “Your relationship progressed, you had a lovely commitment ceremony. Everyone who was everyone was there.”

“Were you there?” a disbelieving Phil questioned.

Felix grimaced a smile. “No, I saw the pictures. John Garrett gave me a thumb drive of wedding pictures.  Fucking bastard. He’s an ass, I don’t understand why you’re so buddy buddy with him.”

“It’s escaped my mind at the moment, I have to confess,” Phil deadpanned.

“I’ll dig them out so you can see them, see if it jars your memory,” offered Felix.  “Plus I can offer you the belly gallery – as Jemma insisted on weekly pictures.”  He made as if to stand and Sonya grumbled a protest. Felix then sat down and Sonya snuggled once more.

“I’m rather surprised,” blurted Phil.

“That we’re having a civilized conversation?”  Felix quietly stated. “I think it’s best if we keep emotions out this, Phil. We have to focus on what’s right for Jemma and the babies. Right now, that’s the priority.”

Felix explained to Phil what had happened in the last two years including how Phil had taken on Loki. He talked for hours until there was literally nothing left to say, and very little voice left in which to speak.

“Are you alright?” Phil asked. “You seem really… introspective. I wish I knew what to say, to promise you that everything will work out. I know you love her, Felix. I am aware of how me showing up is… just turning everything ass over tit.”

Felix interrupted. “I’m tired. Need to sleep, so I can visit Jemma in the hospital tomorrow morning. She had a list of demands, and I need to get them together before I go to bed,” rasped Felix.  “For the next six weeks, I will lie to her, and pretend that the love of her life isn’t alive.”

He was absolutely exhausted, emotionally as well as physically. He needed to regroup and regain his composure. 

“The broken love of her life,” was Phil’s quiet reminder. “I’m broken, Felix. While you are whole and she deserves someone who isn’t broken.”

“Last bedroom is yours,” Felix decided as he ignored Phil’s pessimism. “I’ll get you some clothes tomorrow. I need to crash. Don’t you worry, we’ll get you fixed in six weeks. Because your family really needs you.”

That done, Felix collected Jemma’s must haves and he went to his solitary bed. He was on the verge of losing everything, but he had six weeks left. Six weeks with Jemma that he intended on living to the fullest, because once Jemma found out about this lie, no matter how well meant…. It would be over.  Phil would be daddy, and he’d be on the outside, once again.

He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to handle losing everything.  However, it was key that Felix had to control his anger, his rage against the sheer unfairness of this all.

 

_I'm a man of constant sorrow_

_I've seen trouble all my days._

_Bob Dylan_


	24. Lay Me Down

The next few weeks settled into a routine.  A bumpy, full of potholes, missing direction signs requiring u-turns at 90 miles per hour routine, but still, it was a routine.

Jemma, bedbound, dreamed happy thoughts of being svelte and sexy once again. Or at least being able to see her feet once more. (And yes, she also dreamed of having three beautiful, perfectly behaved, potty trained toddlers, too.)  Fortunately, she had Felix as her personal servant, as he did everything she wished.  She only had to pout once, and Felix caved.

Phil spent hours trying to remember the woman he only knew as Jemma. He’d have bits and pieces, flashes of her, but nothing concrete, though he constantly reviewed the various pictures in Jemma’s belly gallery. When he grew despondent over the situation, Felix would administer tough love.  A verbal kick in the ass, and a stern reminder that time was growing short for Phil. He needed to get his act together and quickly.

Meanwhile, Felix Blake endeavored to juggle Coulson, Simmons and his own looming emotional breakdown with the dexterity of Penn Jillette.  Being male and stubborn, he believed that he was handling everything in an acceptable fashion. Jemma being the priority, she was visited before work, at lunch and after work until she ordered him to leave. The fur kids were walked frequently and if Felix perhaps splurged a bit on the kids due to a sense of guilt, they were smart enough not  voice their complaints. In his free time, he quizzed Phil on Jemma and other key events of his life.

After Phil was asleep, Felix would search the classifieds, in dire need of locating an apartment would let him keep Sonya.  Once the happy couple was back together again, he’d exit stage left.  Head held high, pride intact and heart shattered beyond any hopes of repair. If sometimes he grew maudlin over the incomplete marriage certificate that languished in his dresser drawer as opposed to being happily being signed by all the parties involved, well, he was an idiot.

And he truly believed that he was managing everything exceptionally well. Many a lesser man would have collapsed in exhaustion, however he was **_thriving_** on five hours of sleep a day.

THRIVING!

However, those that knew him best disagreed as both Jemma and Phil were worried. 

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons, while never particularly vain, nervously fluffed her shorter hair. She wore makeup, just a little, and she had just had received a much manicure and a pedicure.  One of the nurses had taken pity on her and had found something that fit her that didn’t scream **_circus tent_**. The cafeteria staff had been requested to prepare something… nice… for dinner, and housekeeping had even changed her sheets after her hair cut.  She had a rather thorough wash up and she had kept a wash cloth for her own nefarious purpose.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” she nervously asked.

The way Skye nervously bit her lip and bounced her head back and forth, as though indecisive, bothered her.

“I shouldn’t have cut it,” Jemma realized. “Most men like long hair.”

“He’ll love it,” Skye insisted. “I was just teasing. Once he comes in, I’ll slap the ‘Honeymoon – do not disturb’ sign on the door and you two can have some privacy. I think this is a wonderful idea as he’s been quite stressed lately. I think some cuddle time might do Mr. Grouchy a world of good.”

“He’s not grouchy,” protested Jemma. “He’s just very serious.”

After witnessing the fearful flight of the man that delivered her office supplies when he accidentally brought six cases of legal paper not letter, Skye doubted that Felix Blake seen as **_serious_** by his coworkers. Downright scary, especially when he arched an eyebrow. The left eyebrow of doom, Skye  had snarkily christened it.  When both eyebrows were raised, Skye truly believed that Level 8s hid and cried for their mommas.

“He’s scary,” Skye confessed. “No one comes to the office anymore as they’re scared.”

“He’s very sweet,” was Jemma’s counterclaim.  “He’s been my rock during this. Felix’s very… quiet lately. Very quiet. He’s just really worried and I think tonight might do him a world of good.”

“Are you seducing him?” The irrepressible Skye chortled.

“Seriously, looking like this?” Jemma protested.

“I see the way he looks at you. Puppy dog eyes, woof, woof,” Skye teased. “He’s got it so bad for you.”

“Speaking of dogs, how’s Jasper?” was Jemma’s verbal volley.

Fortunately, there was a knock on the door, so it was time for Skye to leave.

* * *

 

Felix Blake knocked on the door, as he was careful to obtain permission to enter Jemma’s room.  After that one time, he still shuddered when he remembered that incident where Jemma had cursed like a sailor as he had caught her in a state of undress. To his tired bemusement, Skye, his ‘assistant’ / ‘stray’ bounced out of the room and brightly smiled at him. He trusted that smile NOT AT ALL.

“She cut her hair, Boss. Notice it,” she informed him.

“Seriously, do you think I wouldn’t mention it?” He growled. He arched an eyebrow at her, and to his delight, she ran for the hills.  He called after her, “Tell Jasper to call me.”

He knocked once again, and called, “May I come in?”

* * *

 

She primped herself, and tried to hide her nervousness.

“Come in,” she called.

He entered the room, warmly smiled and then he sat next to her bed.  All perfectly respectable as he never sat on the bed, always in the beside chair.

“Haircut. Looks really nice,” he assured her. He leaned towards her and gave her a kiss.

For his less than enthusiastic endorsement of what she viewed as a drastic cut, she deliberately messed up his hair.  She nodded in approval at what she cheerfully defined as ‘Blake’s Bed Head Hair’.  Between his crazy hair and his bemused smile, he was really quite shaggable. Bloody shame it wasn’t happening for MONTHS.

“Nice,” she pouted.

“Sexy nice,” he informed her. “Like Hi, I’m Jemma.  Agent of SASS.”

“Sass?” she repeated.

“S.A.S.S.,” he repeated, enunciating carefully so she could hear the periods and the capitals. “Self-Assured, Sultry Scientist.”

That confession made her blush, happily. She then motioned at her bed, and wiggled her eyebrows in her best come hither look.  He tilted his head, playfully pretending that he had no idea what she meant.  Really, it was a very good thing that Skye never saw this side of Felix because she’d want him for her own.  Jasper had nothing on Felix. **_Nothing_**.

“They’re washing my body pillow,” she explained. “I’m uncomfortable right now, so get in the bed. I need something long and huggable to cuddle. Take off your shoes, remove your jacket as I need a body pillow and I’m volunteering you. Nothing sharp or pointy, so take off your belt.”

“I’m tempted,” he admitted.  “Very tempted, but what if the staff comes in?”

“I’ve bribed them for privacy,” she explained.  “It’s five thirty, and I have privacy until eight. Get in the bed. Dinner will be served…”

“Is this a hospital or a hotel?”  Felix protested.

“If you’re not interested, I’ll call Fitz,” she reached for her phone and Felix began to disrobe. She quite enjoyed the slow, seductive removal of shoes and socks, but the belt… really, that took a whole five minutes to remove. By the time it was free from his belt loops Jemma had been tempted just to rip it off of him.

That done, her composure fortunately maintained, she patted the bed next to her.

“Come on, I want a cuddle.”

* * *

 

“This is nice,” she whispered after they were finally comfortable. She rested her head on his chest, and then she instructed him to hold her. “I’ve missed this.”

“So have I,” he admitted.

“Are you allright? Lately you seem…. Very stressed?” she carefully questioned. “Lately, your posture is very tense, is it your back?”

“No,” he whispered. “Just very worried.”

“We’re in the home stretch,” she reminded him, even as her hand began to slide beneath the covers.  “Three more weeks until the babies arrive.”

“Three weeks left,” he quietly agreed even as he began to stroke her back.  

He seemed saddened by that so she pounced. “I know you’re worried that I won’t have time for you after the babies arrive. Consider this a promise that I won’t forget my stalwart knight.”

Perhaps she should have mentioned her Soul Mark then, but… she thought that she’d save that experience for their first real time together. Plus after reading entirely too much on Soul Marks, she wasn’t sure why she had TWO and Felix still seemingly had none.

Enough psychological nattering, it was time to be physical. His response was to stiffen … in one delightful way, and then in one not very delightful way. He had tensed up completely, his muscles were so tight that she sighed.

“Felix, please.”

“You need to rest,” he whispered.  He kissed her face and placed her hand above the state line. “Cuddling. That’s all.”

“But I want to take my husband in hand,” she mocked protested.

“Your… husband…”  The pause was very strange, she thought. “Your husband… wants a cuddle… with his wife. For now, just lay with me, please.”

* * *

 

Phil Coulson was tired, bored and … well… tired.  Of the Swiss Cheesed memory, of moments when Felix was close and then pulled away from him, of even the fur kids who stared at him with hurt abandonment. Really, Sonya’s dark eyes had him feeling very guilty even though the entire dying bit hadn’t been his idea.  In spite of the looming Natal Date in three weeks, Phil took all the pictures of Jemma, and placed them on the table.

Carefully though.

He vacuumed, did the laundry, set the fur kids out for a run on their private dog run. Let them in, let them out and then let them back in again.

He could always watch television, as Felix was visiting Jemma. (And really, whenever he tried to sound out Felix on what would happen once Jemma realized that he was alive and that she was married to Felix… Felix just told him that it would be handled.) Maybe the Travel Channel would pass the time.

Mindless droning, then a commercial for a hotel in Virginia.  Hotel Morrison? Looked familiar, maybe he had been there in another life.  

A bright smile hiding uncertainty.  The bed… the bed…

**_Hotel Morrison. HE HAD BEEN THERE WITH JEMMA.  Their first time had been at THAT HOTEL._ **

**_It was coming back. All of his memories were coming back, all at once. Completely overwhelming him._ **

_You told me not to cry when you were gone_  
But the feeling's overwhelming, it's much too strong  
Can I lay by your side, next to you, you  
And make sure you're alright  
I'll take care of you

_Lay Me Down – Sam Smith_


	25. The Boxer

_In the clearing stands a boxer,_  
And a fighter by his trade  
And he carries the reminders  
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down  
And cut him till he cried out  
In his anger and his shame,  
"I am leaving, I am leaving."

_The Boxer - Simon & Garfunkel_

* * *

 

“You need to rest,” he whispered.  He kissed her face and placed her hand above the state line. “Cuddling. That’s all.”

“But I want to take my husband in hand,” she mocked protested.

“Your… husband…”  The pause was very strange, she thought. “Your husband… wants a cuddle… with his wife. For now, just lay with me, please.”

“Your wife would love a cuddle.” Jemma stated it deliberately, without any of the strange pauses and emphasis that Blake had utilized. “Jemma, on the other hand, wonders if you could open your shirt.”

His silent response was one quirked eyebrow. Which meant he was feeling amused and playful.  AND DIFFICULT.

“I want to rest my head on your chest and I desire skin to skin contact,” patiently explained Jemma. “I really need physical closeness right now.”

He took his time considering her request (bastard!), then moved as though he was about to unbutton his shirt, but she beat him for the prize. “Let me, I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

It was rather difficult to undress a man who wore a button down shirt while he was cuddling in bed with you, Jemma quickly realized. Especially when you were struggling to steal kisses. However, she persevered and he was soon shirtless. More repositioning was required until she once again rested her head on his chest.

“Much better. I have been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Jemma confessed as she traced “I know you” over and over on his skin, willing the damn Soul Mark to display itself. It would be horribly embarrassing if she had a one way bond. Stalkerish, even.

“About what?”

“After the children arrive. How our life and priorities will change because of them. Once we get somewhat settled, I want to pencil in at least one date night every week for us,” she said.  “Then as they get older, a quick overnight trip now and then. I don’t want my husband feeling neglected.”

She **_felt_** his emotional pain at the comment and how he needed to compose himself before he spoke.

“Your husband is a… very… lucky man,” he finally choked out. “I’m sure your husband knows how jealous some people will be because you’re his wife.”

It was odd how he was using the third tense, but then again, she had called him, ‘my husband’.

“You just keep remembering my husband is a very lucky man,” she happily chirped even as she unbuttoned his pants. “I plan on reminding him that every single day.”

* * *

 

Felix was dead asleep; his resulting post-orgasmic relaxation had speedily led to him falling asleep. It was rest which the dear man visibly needed, so it gave her an excellent opportunity to ponder what was bothering Felix. Oh, and she got to touch him, because really, her nascent bond required to skin contact to strengthen and stabilize it.

“Hmm… I’m wondering if there is a chemical imbalance in your blood which caused your Soul Muteness,” she murmured.  “While it’s nice to parrot the company line that it’s all romance and predestination, a great deal of it involves chemoreceptors. Twenty years with Phil, you must have similar chemoreceptors.”

When their dinner arrived, she regretfully woke him as the kids needed to eat.. He was endearingly grumpy and groggy, so she fed him, and then ordered him home and to get some sleep.

* * *

 

After Jemma’s commando affection attack and how he had **_immediately_** started snoring in the afterglow, (God, he hoped that he had kissed her afterwards at least!) Felix Blake accepted that his batteries were depleted.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he promised Jemma.

“Tomorrow you will not visit me, you will call me at your lunch hour, then call me after work,” she informed him. “You haven’t been sleeping, and you’re spending all your time here. Go home, sleep. If I need you, I will call you.”

He tried to protest, but she was utterly correct. He was exhausted. With a heaping tablespoon of delaminated with fissures and hairline fractures, also.

“Kiss me,” she ordered, so he did. “And the children want a kiss, too.”

As was his wont, he kissed her belly three times. Each baby got a goodnight plus a soft ‘I love you’, while Baby B got a little more.  A heartfelt request for her to keep growing.

“She listens to you,” sighed Jemma. “Bloody shame she doesn’t listen to me.”

“It’s the pitch of my sonorous baritone,” Blake stated. “Your voice is much higher.”

“The other babies are jealous as her daddy likes her best,” teased Jemma.

God, the knife went right into his heart that time.

“No, assure them that their daddy will love them equally,” he assured her, because Phil Coulson was non partial. Felix Blake, on the other hand, was biased to the cast offs, the ignored, the unadoptables.  The ones that just wanted… what everybody else had. From just wanting a little more room in her mom’s womb, to a warm dog bed with far too many squeaky toys, to a grown man who just wanted someone to share his life.

The Soulless who wanted a Soul Mate.

“Felix?”  Jemma’s voice interrupted his dark thoughts. “Take tomorrow off from work, you have enough time. You need to sleep, Felix. I hoped that a little affection would relax you, instead you’re shutting down on me.

 

“I’m….tired… and it might be a good idea so when we get to the finish line in three weeks, I’m ready for the new challenges in my life,” he decided. Yes, he’d have to pack in a hurry.

Jemma giggled, “They’re babies, Felix. ‘Challenges’?”

He signed, ‘I love you’ as that had become his traditional goodbye to her and Jemma smiled. “I love you too, Felix.”

* * *

 

By eleven PM, Phil Coulson was both worried and annoyed. Felix hadn’t responded to his telephone calls or his texts, so he wasn’t sure if Felix was still with Jemma (and he ignored the dry snarky inner voice that said, ‘Pot, Kettle, BLACK?’) or if something had happened to Jemma and the babies, or Felix… and… really…

The dogs, who had munificently decided to stop shunning him as Felix wasn’t home, perked up and ran towards the door as they heard the sound of keys jingling. After a few minutes, Felix opened the door and staggered into the room. That done, he relocked the door and set the alarm, which took a few tries until the alarm was properly set.

Felix hissed and cursed his frustration regarding the stubbornness of the alarm.

“You ok, Felix?” Phil asked.  He tried to hide his annoyance but really, Felix should have text him or something.

“Still up? Phil, you should have gone to sleep, I dropped off my truck earlier. Walked to O’Malley’s and then had SAFE RIDES get me home,” Felix slurred. His face was flushed and he accidently dropped his car keys on the floor when he tried to remove his coat. It took several tries for him to locate the keys and place them in the appropriate spot.  “I’m…f-f-fine. Feeling really… **_relaxed_** … though…  Did fucking Tony Stark do something to the apartment? Like make it…rotate?”

He peered in confusion at the NYC skyline visible from their window.

“No, Felix.  The apartment isn’t rotating,” Phil assured him.

“I must be really fucking drunk then,” Felix cheerfully admitted. He walked in a crooked line to the kitchen and then rummaged through a closet.  After he victoriously closed the closet door, he returned back to Phil, and held a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue in his unsteady grip. “Well…well… well… here’s… Johnnie.”

“Felix, I thought you didn’t drink like this anymore,” Phil protested.  Early on in their relationship, Felix had been a hard drinking, hard living agent. However, after they had settled into their relationship, Felix no longer drank to excess. Yet now, signs were declaring that Felix was blitzed, and he had pulled out his legendary bottle of Johnnie Walker BLUE.

“Tonight’s a very special night. I mean, you’ve got your memory back. All those angry voice messages, Phil. Yelling at me how you **_need_** to know what’s going with Jemma. How you **_have_** to be there for her and the babies. Well, get this, Coulson, you **_can’t_** fucking be there for her now, because **_I’m_** fucking there. Once the babies are born, you can **_sweep_** in and be Husband and Daddy,” Felix stated.

Felix managed to open the bottle and he motioned at Phil. “Better pour. The building is most assuredly rotating on its axis. Fucking Stark and his goddamn need to improve things that work just fine.”

“Felix, I need to let Jemma know that I’m alive,” Phil protested. “We will discuss this in the morning when you’re sober.”

Felix snorted his disgust.

“No, we will discuss this now. Actually, I will tell you what the fucking plan is, Phil. So shut up, pour the Scotch and sit down. As for me being sober, not planning on it for the next three weeks. I plan on living in a lovely coffin… cocoon of comfy numbness. Where’s the goddamn Scotch, Coulson? If you’re not gonna pour, then I am.”

Against his better judgment, Phil poured Felix a finger-worth.

“This is the plan, Agent. When Jemma is wheeled into the Operating Room, you will be there. Until then, she must **_not_** know that you are live.”

“That’s not your decision, Felix,” protested Phil.

“It is, because you have no idea of what you showing up will cause to happen. The babies are thirty three weeks along. You showing up, saying ‘Surprise, I’m not dead’ right now will push her into preterm labor. The children are not ready to be born, which means that they will require extensive medical intervention. Instead of bringing three babies home when Jemma is released from the hospital, they’ll probably be in the NICU unit. They might need a feeding tube, Phil or they might require support for their lungs. Might be there for months, Phil and I’ll fucking blame you for every blood draw, every IV, every NG tube, every minute that Jemma is separated from the children.”

Phil nodded his head in tired understanding.

“She’ll be furious enough to birth a litter of kittens, Phil. However, she’ll be angry at **_me_** , not **_you_** ,” Felix stated.  “However, I’ll be long fucking gone. I won’t be able to watch the happy family, so I’m gone.”

“Felix…” Phil protested.

“I’m not married to her. I never signed the paperwork. It is in my dresser drawer,” confessed Felix.  “I want another drink, Phil. My glass is empty.”

“You’ve had enough, Felix.”

“Pour it, Phil.  This is the second fucking time you’ve ruined my life, Phil, so pour the goddamn drink. One of these days, I hope you’ll tell me why you get such a fucking hard on by ruining my life. I know you understand… you of everyone… what it’s been like for me… to finally have something that I always wanted… n-never thought I’d get ….and then to have it ripped away from me by someone I once believed my closest friend. And you fucking did it to me twice, Phil.”

Felix deliberately poked Phil in the chest, dead center where his scar was. “TWICE.”

“Felix, you were the one that walked,” protested Phil who could not hide his wince. “I tried calling you.”

“After it was too late. I fucking called you five times the night you met Jemma. FIVE FUCKING TIMES, PHIL.  I repeatedly called you because all these agents were busy regaling me about your fucking behavior. I decided to keep my pride and delete four of the five messages I left for you. Seriously, Roger’s birthday as your pin? So easy to crack, so easy to remove my sniveling messages of ‘Phil, can you **_please_** call me. **_Please_**. Phil, if you found your soul mate, it’s ok. I just need to hear it from **_you_**.’”

Felix struggled to stand, and then waved his hand at Phil.

“Put the bottle away. I’m going to bed. I may be Soulless, and universally declared as being unacceptable as a Soul Partner, but at least I have my fucking pride, Coulson. Oh, and I’ve got a fucking apartment lined up already.”

He staggered in the general direction of his bedroom even as Phil Coulson rubbed his throbbing temples. “Five times. Felix called me five times because he wanted to hear ** _it_** from **_me_**. Not Garrett.”

* * *

 

The next day, both men walked on eggshells, fearful of setting off another argument. Plus Felix Blake had a Tony Stark sized hangover so even the sheer adorability of Nekko grated on his nerves like the sounds of a beginning violin player.   Therefore there was silence and the curtains were drawn.

Phil finally stepped in front of Felix to state what needed to be said, “I’ll do what you say with regards to Jemma.  I don’t want to risk anything happening to her or the children. I wish there was a better solution, but I can’t think of one.”

Felix nodded his head once.

“I’m hoping that you’ll reconsider your decision to leave,” Phil softly requested. “Don’t run, Felix. Please stay.”

“I can’t,” Felix protested. “I simply can’t.”

“I wish that one day you can believe that I never meant for our relationship to end the way it did,” Phil quietly stated.

“I know that, but still, it did.”

* * *

 

The next two weeks and five days went by slowly.  Felix visited Jemma faithfully in the hospital every day, his heart shattering more and more as he couldn’t tell her that her Soul Mate still lived.  Finally, the C-section was scheduled for two days hence when Felix received an emergency call from Jemma.

“They want to do the C-section now,” Jemma informed him.  She hissed loudly before continuing, “Please hurry. I’m in labor.”

“Be there immediately,” Felix promised.  He stood, his legs unexpectedly as rubbery as if this was his first mission because… today was when everything hit the fan. Somehow, he managed to find his coat in his office and put it on after only three attempts. Upon stepping out of his office, he was greeted by a serious Agent Romanov.

“If you’ll come with me,” Agent Romanov ordered.

“J-j-j-jemma,” he began.

She nodded. “I know the quickest way to the hospital.  Barton is on his way to your apartment to collect a certain person.”

“You **_know_**?” Felix asked as he permitted himself to be guided down the hallway.

“Fury was beside himself when he realized. That person has been missing for months, but I assured him that you were handling him very carefully and that he was recovering far better under your care than he previously had.”

“Fury’s aware? Oh, Christ,” Felix swore as they entered an elevator.

“Fury will also inform Jemma that it was his decision and his decision along to keep her in the dark. That you both protested, however due to the extenuating medical conditions, you agreed only after loudly protesting,” Romanov explained. “I’ve heard the tape, it sounds quite convincing. Fury threatened you with insubordination as you told him that he had a one-eyed Odin Complex.”

“She’ll be furious,” Felix murmured.

“Not at you.”

Fuck, it was pretty bad if Natasha Romanov was trying to console him.

“You don’t know her at all. She’ll blame me,” Felix protested to the uncaring universe.

When he arrived at the hospital, late due to UN traffic, the staff was wheeling Jemma to the Operating Room. Phil was dressed in scrubs and a puffing Jemma tightly held his hand.

“You’re alive,” she wept.

“Yes, I am,” Phil assured her. “I’m here, and Felix is here now, too. So we can get this party started after he gets into his scrubs. He needs to be in the room with us, as he’s been here all along. Right, Jemma?”

For a brief moment, Felix hoped that everything would work out.  That Jemma would understand and absolve him of his guilt as everything had been done for her and the children. Upon hearing that he arrived, Jemma turned to face him. Hesitantly, he signed, ‘I love you’ to her and she turned her face away from him.

Back towards Phil.

Back towards her Soul Mate.

“I don’t want him near me. He knew…. He knew you were alive and he didn’t tell me,” Jemma protested.  “Get rid of him. He lied to me, Phil. About that, and God knows what else.”

Therefore, Felix Blake left the hospital and began to walk. Back towards the apartment, back the shattered remains of his previous life.  He was so focused on flight that he never saw the taxi that ran the red light.


	26. The End

Meanwhile back at the hospital, the recently reunited Phil and Jemma were sharing a few loving moments before the birth of their children.

“I am never doing this again,” Jemma informed him in a very scary tone even as she writhed on the stretcher.  She had her hand around Phil’s scrub top and she stared at him with a look that honestly frightened him more than Loki ever had.  “Tell Felix I am not having a baby with him because back labor bloody sucks. And it really bloody hurts. Where are my drugs? I want my drugs, **_now_**. Fuck the birth plan, I don’t want natural birth. I need chemical assistance, _NOW_.”

Phil wisely agreed with her desire for drugs and then Jemma pulled him towards her. For such a slight woman, she possessed a great deal of strength.

“Where is **_he_**?” She growled.

“Who?”  Phil asked.

“FELIX. My labor coach?” Jemma reminded him. “Where is he?”

“You kicked him out,” Phil hesitantly admitted.

“Get him the bloody hell back here. This is no time for Blake Shenanigans!”

“You kicked him out,” reminded Phil.

“I want my husbands with me,” Jemma stated through clenched teeth. “I want both of them here. If you won’t get him here, then get the hell out. Get out. Get out. Go find him or find someone that will.”

Phil wisely agreed and ran like hell.

* * *

 

A distracted Felix Blake nearly became one with a taxi. Fortunately, his instinctive need for self-preservation trumped his distracted walking. He flipped off the taxi driver and shouted a few heart felt obscenities directing his anger at the world at a physical representation. The taxi door opened and out stepped the driver. He was shorter than Felix but outweighed him by fifty pounds, easily.  Felix cocked his fist, and then rationality returned.

He stormed towards his apartment, until Clint Barton appeared from nowhere.

“You need to get back to the hospital. Simmons is really scary. Banner ain’t got nothing on her,” Barton stated.  “Coulson needs backup.”

“She kicked me out,” Felix vainly protested.

“She kicked Coulson out also,” Barton admitted.

“Who’s with her then? Is she doing this on her own?” Felix asked, as he did an about face. And yes, he wondered why he cared? He shook his head in protest when he realized who was probably left minding Jemma, “ ** _Romanov_**?”

Oh dear God, no.

“Everyone else ran,” was Barton’s amused confusion.  “Let me tell Phil that I found you as we need to get your scrubs ready. Nat says that Jemma was having severe back labor so she might have gotten a little crazy.”

“A little?”

“Nat says back labor hurts worse than a five pound kidney stone.”

“I’ll take her word for it,” Felix sighed.

“You need to get back, as whatever they gave her now has her uncontrollably sobbing about both husbands abandoning her.” Barton didn’t even try to hide his glee when he stated, ‘both husbands’.

“I’m not married to her, I never signed the paperwork.” Yeah, like that would get him off this crazy train.

“Seriously, not the time to tell her that. Trust me.”

* * *

 

 He was stuffed into a pair of scrubs and driven to his doom by a set of third year residents. Phil’s relief was physically evident when he realized that he was no longer alone with Jemma. “Hey, Felix is back,” Phil informed Jemma. “I told you he’d return.”

“He left,” sniffled Jemma who seemed to have completely forgotten the minor detail that she had ordered him out of her life. “I needed him and he left. Just like you did.”

“He needed a smoke,” lied Phil.  “He came back, like I did.”

“Smoking’s a nasty habit,” a stoned Jemma informed Phil.  “I haven’t been able to completely house train him. Now that you’re here, you can assist me as we **_can’t_** have him smoking around the babies. That includes the balcony. And Fury will never **_ever_** be a Godfather, as I’m quite utterly cross with him.”

Her eyes were glassy and wide.

“I’ve been trying to convince Felix to quit for years,” teased Phil.  “And yes, Fury will not be a Godfather.”

“They gave me some really good stuff as we waited for you to come back,” she informed Felix. “I told them that I couldn’t have the babies without both my soul mates here.”

Felix’s witty response was “Huh?”

“I’ve got Felix’s handwriting on my inner thigh,” a drugged Jemma slurred.  “It’s says, ‘Don’t be afraid’. I was planning on showing it to him as a very intimate moment. However, since he has a tendency of flight...”

“Inner thigh?” Phil questioned. “That’s where mine is. Though mine says, ‘‘Well, isn’t that absolutely fucking fantastic’?”

“That’s **_new_** , as I never saw that one on you before,” Jemma giggled.

“I woke with it,” Phil admitted. “I wasn’t sure if it was new, or I had gotten it.”

“It’s new. I think that means we’re keeping him forever and ever now.  Phil, we’re both marked by him, and well, we **_need_** him to complete our family.”

“That we do,” Phil softly admitted.  “I’ve missed both of you. I love both of you.”

“I love you two, too,” Jemma added. “And if he tells you that he doesn’t love you, he’s lying.”

An overwhelmed Felix was prevented from coherently responding by the arrival of the medical team.

It was a whirlwind after that, of babies arriving and being handed off. To his dying day, Felix Blake swore that upon meeting Baby B, she happily giggled when she heard his voice.

And maybe, he did too.


End file.
